


Instincts

by TattoosonTattoos



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Angst, Biting, Bonding, Claiming, Cooking, Courting Rituals, Fluff, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Murder, Omega Will, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rutting, Scenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-09-21 08:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17040479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TattoosonTattoos/pseuds/TattoosonTattoos
Summary: Will Graham is just an Omega who wants to be left alone. All his life he's been fighting his biology, trying to stay normal amid the natural instincts within him that rage, clawing at their cages. A wall against the world has been built based on confusion and anger, but what happens when he meets an Alpha that challenges his beliefs? Hannibal Lecter is an amazing cook, accomplished psychiatrist, eats human flesh from time to time, and smellsdivine."The tragedy is not to die but to be wasted." - Hannibal





	1. Chapter 1

                                                          

 

 

“Everyone has thought about killing someone one way or another.”

Will Graham’s voice was low and darkly confident as he scanned his full audience of students. He kept his eyes just low enough to avoid catching anyone else’s even though it was dark; he knew an unpleasant zing would zip down his spine and his carefully assembled words would catch in his throat. Eyes were distracting. Saw too much, saw too little.

As he swept his gaze over clean faces and ironed collars he couldn’t help but think of them all as sheep safely tucked away in their stables, protected from the wolf until they had to go out and catch him. It was all too easy to do research or write papers, putting theory to good use in a warm building with soft lighting and free coffee. It was quite another to be out in the field where practice was a coiled figure lurking behind the door, waiting for you to open it with bared teeth and flexing fingers. Will knew too well what it was like. In this case practice had a gun.

He clicked for the next slide, bathing his face in red from the projection of blood.

“Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow.”

There was an uncomfortable shift in the air as the Alphas in the class eyed the gruesome image. None of them _wanted_ to think about killing that poor Beta. She was someone’s mate, loved deeply, and seeing a bond being torn apart so viciously was disturbing. Their combined scents and negative emotions prickled Will’s throat and settled over his skin like moisture from walking through a fog. His stomach clenched tightly for a moment, sending a jolt of pain through his guts and he managed to turn the ensuing wince into a breathy cough. Clammy fingers unconsciously gripped the bottle of pills in his jacket pocket.

Being employed in a police academy, Will’s class was naturally filled with Alphas. A handful of stronger Betas were sprinkled throughout the crowd but the nature of police work, often involving violence and high-stress situations, seemed a magnet for Alpha males in particular. Their inane strength and cunning minds made them excellent officers along with their inherent need to protect. Many disputes involving police were resolved merely by the officers showing up; their dominating scents and usual large builds were intimidating enough even when dealing with groups of people.

“Why did she deserve this? Tell me your design. Tell me who you _are_.”

Will could still smell the blood of the crime scene from the night before, could still smell the power and satisfaction of the Alpha that had murdered Mrs. Marlow and her husband. The man was gone but his scent had lingered like a love note on a satin pillow. Will’s skin had fluttered and a drop of warmth spread in his belly as he pulled the pheromones into his body through his breath. His face had distorted into a cruel smile just as the Alpha had done as he assessed the mangled form of the Beta lying broken before him, and when he was done with the scene it had taken some deep breaths of the cold night air to dispel that feeling from his lips.

The murderer was jealous of the pair, enough to become violent. Perhaps he had no mate himself and wanted to destroy any bond he came across; if he couldn’t be happy with a caring lover, no one could. As a man Will understood the feeling of wanting something but being unable to have it. As a man with a highly active imagination, he understood the rush of seeing someone’s life leave their eyes while they died a justified death, beautiful thought becoming action through sprays of warm blood.

It always took a moment or two after his analysis to convince himself that he didn’t commit whatever crime he was there for; mentally scrubbing his brain of the memories, no, _fantasies_ that he conjured up in an attempt to solve it was second nature. Only the useful parts were needed, the rest was strained out like a sieve that only worked some of the time. Bits and pieces would remain behind, adhere to the inside of his skull like parasites that made him take longer and longer to return to his true self.

This ability was no surprise; Will Graham presented as Omega when he was sixteen. Omegas were highly empathic and sensitive beings but Will had spent his adult life believing it to be no more than a curse. It had been the shock of his life and before he could say anything else about Mrs. Marlow the memory rose to his mind like an oxygen-deprived creature breaching the surface of deep water.

He had been in high school sitting at the back of the room while his History teacher Mr. Fentz, who happened to be an Alpha, lectured on methods of warfare.

“The shape of the cannon is very efficient,” he was explaining, showing a diagram of one being loaded by a soldier.

Just looking at it was making Will uneasy. He had been feeling feverish all morning but it wasn’t bad enough to miss school, so he passed it off as the start of a cold and continued on with his day. Sure, he should have been aware of the signs as taught from their Sex Ed class, but he was just a kid and thought he was a regular Beta like mostly everyone else. They didn’t go through heat, only experienced a mild ‘coming of age’ when their scents become more pronounced but nothing more than that. As far as Will Graham knew, he was nothing special.

However, what he began to feel deep in his belly was something foreign and all he knew was that suddenly his socks were too snug, his shoes were laced way too tightly, and his clothes felt as if they had shrunk two sizes. The soft cotton of his shirt felt like gritty sandpaper and how long had his boxers been _damp_ like that - and all of a sudden he got a whiff of the older Alpha standing at the front of the room.

Electric fire exploded inside his stomach at the sweet, musky smell. It smelled like comfort and spice and sex and he began to pant at his desk at the thought of the Alpha going into rut for him, biting him, _bonding_ him. It teased him like a lover, warm and cool on his skin and all sorts of uncharacteristically perverse thoughts began flying unbidden through Will’s feverish mind. He didn’t care who was watching, he would have let the Alpha do whatever he wanted to him right there and he would have submitted willingly. _What the fuck was going on?!_ He was clenching his teeth so hard he could feel his pulse in his mouth. With his eyes almost rolling in his head and he understood the truth; he was Omega.

The teacher was still talking but Will heard nothing; he only saw hard muscle hiding underneath those damned polite professional clothes and lithe shifts in weight as he gestured to the uncomfortably phallic image on the wall. Will’s mouth had gone dry in a second and he found himself grinding his ass against his seat, desperate for something he had never yearned for before. The friction manifested a slippery slick that oozed under him and he squirmed at the sensation, embarrassment sweeping through him. His heart began a steady hammering in his chest, flooding him with heat that expressed as a vivid pink blush in his cheeks.

The students around him were beginning to turn at his flowering scent; Fredrick, an Alpha boy that had never been particularly kind to him turned in his seat and was sucking deep breaths in through his mouth and nose, staring avidly at Will like he was some sort of miracle. An Alpha girl to his right was looking at him with glazed eyes and slightly bared teeth, gripping her pencil with white knuckles.

He felt their attention on him like blinding spotlights but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the front of his teacher’s pants.

It made a mewling whimper rise in his throat and he was horrified at the sound; he had never made a noise like that before and it startled him with how the Alpha reacted.

Mr. Fentz paused in his lecture, turned his head towards Will with controlled intrigue and flared his nostrils in a deep inhale. Even from the back of the room Will could see his teacher’s pupils blow wide until almost no color was left. The Alpha managed to turn his low possessive growl into an odd choking noise before clearing his throat.

“Ah, Mr. Graham,” he uttered through gritted teeth. “Please step outside.”

It seemed all he was capable of saying, for as soon as Will nodded numbly in reply – anything for the Alpha that had just spoken directly to him – he strode to the door and exited without another word.

Heat and desperation painting his face, Will gathered his things hastily to obey, near delirious with the scent of the Alpha still fresh in the room. Everyone else in the class was breathing deeply and staring dumbly at him as though he were sprouting wings. Mercifully a kind Beta with dark hair stood from her seat and helped him out of his, giving everyone else an eye roll and a muttered ‘pull yourselves together.’ Gratitude brought tears to his eyes as he allowed himself to be led out. While exiting the room she made sure to walk close behind him to hide the wet mark on the back of his pants.

They both breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the deserted hallway and closed the door behind them. The pretty Beta brought Will to the cool wall for support and smiled gently.

“They’re all just dorks in there you know,” she said, her bright blue eyes twinkling. “I don’t think any of them have even _seen_ an Omega before, let alone be in the same class as one.”

Will was surprised she knew what was going on but the thought didn’t really resonate. His head was fogged with heat and he kept glancing down the hallway to see if the Alpha was returning.

“Yeah, I was one of them,” he replied distantly, wincing at the curling fire in his belly. He looked up at her and offered a small smile in return.

“Thanks for helping get me out of there.”

She shrugged.

“No problem. I couldn’t bear the thought of no one helping _me_ if I presented Omega in front of a full classroom,” she said kindly. Will could have kissed her but the thought of kissing a girl was mildly repulsive.

They both snapped their heads to the left at the sound of approaching footsteps, Will having to smother another desperate whine that had risen swiftly within him at the possibility that it might be his Alpha returning. A motherly Beta in a nurse uniform was hurrying down the hall, bright blonde hair done up in a messy bun that flopped with each step. Will deflated at the sight of her.

“You poor dear,” she said when she reached them, a little out of breath. “Mr. Fentz came and told me at once and I daresay he wasn’t exaggerating,” she said as she pulled some of Will’s blooming scent into her heaving lungs. “Presenting Omega in the middle of History class, what awful timing, but _congratulations_ Will, you’re Hill High’s only one! We’ve already contacted your parents and they’re on their way to the school right now. If you’ll come with me dear, we can get you into some fresh clothes.”

Will felt as though he would rather be anywhere than in a high school being told he was the only Omega within it. Glancing at his new Beta friend, he smiled in thanks before allowing himself to be pulled away down the hall. Before they were out of earshot he remembered something and called back to her.

“Hey, what’s your name!”

“Alana Bloom!” came her reply as she waved.

Will was yanked back to the present by the sound of students rising from their seats and collecting their bags. Apparently he had dismissed the class; he still felt the words in his mouth but didn’t remember saying them. Trembling slightly, he all but fell into the chair behind his desk as they filed out of the room, feeling a cold sweat break out on his temples. The dim lights of the theatre seemed to pulse.

Many of the Alphas gave him curious looks that bordered on concern, but he avoided their eyes and popped two small white pills from the bottle in his pocket and dry swallowed. There were pheromone sprays and perfumes available that could mask an Omega’s scent and make them pass as Beta, but Will had learned from experience that long-time use, i.e. months on end, led to debilitating migraines.

At first he didn’t care; the headaches were a small price to pay compared to the near assaults he would deal with on a daily basis if he didn’t cover up his scent. A simple trip on the bus was a prison sentence if he forgot or ran out before resupplying. Any unmated Alpha would look hungrily at him as soon as he sat down and not stop staring until he exited the vehicle. Those were the good days. Bad days involved fights breaking out between Alphas that were driven to near-rut at prolonged proximity with Will, or males that actually got aggressive with him. His 911 call history was scrollable.

Luckily over-the-counter scent suppressors were common among Omegas and even Alphas who wished to go about life a little more discreetly, but as Will had been medicating for nearly ten years straight it was his stomach that was beginning to rebel.

It clenched painfully and he pressed clammy palms into his closed eyes. He hadn’t thought about presenting for years. What had suddenly made him think of it again? The same warmth was pooling behind his navel, nowhere near as powerful as the first time but still enough that it made each breath shallow. Confusion wracked his mind; he was months away from his next scheduled heat. Maybe he was coming down with something…? The room tilted and for a moment he experienced paralyzing vertigo that made him feel as though he were on the verge of vomiting.

“Mr. Graham.”

An oaky musk announced the arrival of the Alpha before Will saw him. Startled, a groan escaped his lips and he struggled to put his glasses on before facing his visitor. Unconsciously, he ensured the rim was angled just enough to prevent eye contact. Distractions, distractions.

“I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford, I lead the Behavioral Science Unit. Are you alright?”

The darker skinned man possessed a dominating scent that surrounded Will like a pack of dogs. It made his skin tingle uncomfortably and the man’s shrewd eyes that were narrowed at him weren’t helping. A navy blue suit served as presenting him as official but made him look out of place; a military uniform would have been more appropriate. Squirming in his seat at the scrutiny Will recognized him. Difficult to forget; he was built like a tank with the personality of a bull.

Unable to help but submit to the Alpha’s imposing figure he dipped his head to the side, exposing his neck slightly.

“M’ fine. We’ve met,” he couldn’t help but mutter, flicking his eyes downwards. “You didn’t seem to like what I said about the new museum, about it being named with…no imagination whatsoever.”

Jack grumbled deeply in his throat at this disregard for authority and Will’s body thrummed with the energy in the air.

He knew Jack knew this full well but didn’t intend to bring it up himself. They had a _minor_ disagreement about the naming of the new museum, with Will ending up insulting it and Jack losing his temper at him that resulted in quite a bit of growling and shouting. Will wasn’t exactly a people person and didn’t enjoy pretending to be one, even when dealing with annoyingly persistent Alphas which was why Jack was looking at him so dangerously at the moment.

Before he knew it his personal space was clouded with the scent of irritated Alpha and Jack was leaning forward to push his glasses further up his face so he could make direct eye contact. Will balked, wanting to shy away from the touch but Jack’s gaze was too powerful.

“I remember. Can I borrow _your_ imagination then?”

“Keep it, I don’t want it,” Will muttered drily. “Maybe I’ll finally get some sleep.”

“You have trouble sleeping, Will? I have people for that. Maybe you could talk to someone.”

“I thought you were asking for my help, Jack, not if _I_ needed it.”

The Alpha growled low in his throat at the retort and Will hated himself for dropping his head lower to bare the side of his neck more visibly. Damned Omegan biology. He wanted to snarl at himself because of it. Jack’s scent gathered around him like thick blankets, threatening to suffocate him if he refused.

“Do I have a choice?” he grumbled, his eyes watering with the effort not to crumble and mewl like a kitten under the pressure of the Alpha’s glare. A submissive whimper rose in the back of his throat but he swallowed it like his pills.

“None whatsoever,” Jack replied.


	2. Chapter 2

                                                           

 

The moment that Will stepped out of the lecture theatre, he felt something. He paused in the doorway behind Jack who strode ahead, unaware that his colleague had stopped. Despite the churning nausea in his stomach from the freshly-popped pills he could focus enough on the air around him to tell that it smelled differently than usual. Or rather, there was a different smell present that wasn’t usually there. It hung head-level like thin smoke that trailed lazily, an ethereal river. It brought with it hazy images of violence, pleasure…and thick, hot blood. He could almost taste it. The breath of a huge hooved beast hit the back of Will’s neck and he slowly tilted his head to the side in supplication, his eyes rolling shut.

“Will!”

Jack’s loud shout tore him out of his reverie. He shook his head like a dog and blinked as if emerging into bright sunlight. He felt like he was in a dream. _What was happening?_ Perhaps the side effects of the pills were finally catching up to him, poisoning his brain and loosening his grip on reality. It was certainly possible. How many was he palming a day? Three? Four? His jaw clenched as he realized he didn’t really know. He mainly took one when he felt like it or two if someone gave him a lingering look or fleeting touch that may or may not have been accidental. The past had a nasty habit of making one paranoid.

Jack was walking up to him, his scent issuing threads of concern even though he was looking as though reconsidering asking for his help.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

To Will’s dismay Jack reached out and gently gripped his shoulder with a large hand. It was meant to comfort; as a leader and an Alpha it was only natural for Jack to want to ease a stressed Omega but to Will it felt more like a vice. Jack’s face was too close, pushing the boundaries of his personal bubble too far. The weight of his scent, overpowering in its need to console, threatened to push him over.

Will nodded jerkily and tried to not shrug out of the touch. Jack seemed to sense his discomfort and dropped his hand, looking at him as though unsure he was convinced.

“Good. Follow me. I’d like to discuss some things in my office.”

Will breathed a quiet sigh of relief and resisted the urge to pop another pill.

As they made their way through the busy building, Jack filling the roll of human bulldozer, they navigated through individuals in varying degrees of urgency; some were strolling casually with colleagues, comparing notes or discussing their most recent lectures while others were either rushing full-tilt to get to point B or power walking to preserve some dignity. The corridor was a medley of scents and emotion and the puzzling fragrance from earlier had been smothered completely, if it had existed at all.

That is, until they turned the corner of the hallway into a more deserted wing, where Jack’s office was located.

It was much quieter and Will knew immediately that an Alpha had just been there, a strong one, and carrier of the very real scent he had sampled back at his lecture theatre. It was heavy and filled the air with warmth, much more potent than Jack’s. As he walked it smoothed over his skin like soft silk and he could feel his heartbeat strengthen in response. A bitter grimace passed over his face. Of course he knew his Omegan biology and how his body reacted to Alpha fragrances. If any particularly odorous, unmated Alpha stepped into his vicinity his skin would flush and his breath would catch. Elevators were a nightmare. It was only through years of willfully beating down his natural urges that Will managed any semblance of normalcy. The abuse of his past was to thank for that, a warning bell that was always tolling in the distance.

However, nothing he had experienced with any previous Alpha ever came close to this. Despite the glowering furrow of his brows he was more drawn with every step. The spicy, musky aroma filled his head with what felt like the sweet glaze you’d find on cakes, thick and syrupy, gluing all rational thought to the floors of his mind where he could tread with abandon. Like poisoned honey it fed the warmth behind his navel but made him grit his teeth at the same time. This Alpha was unbonded, unmated, _available_ , and his body was all but punishing him for it.

There was an underlying sharpness that reminded him of expensive whiskey that made his mouth water and he absently swallowed around nothing. It was a darkness that bloomed in his mind like the vision of blood; not the thin red water that ran just under the skin but the thick, viscous _blood_ that surged deep in the body…so red it was almost black. He could hear it pounding in his ears, a muffled throbbing that sounded somehow _wet_.

Will didn’t notice his jaw had fallen open slightly and he was taking deep, even breaths with his eyes half-lidded. He could almost hear the sound of hooves pacing just behind him, glossy black feathers dripping crimson onto the white tile.

Jack’s presence at his side barely registered. Will knew he was a bonded Alpha, therefore the presence of an strong, unmated one was no concern to him. For a wild moment he wanted to burst out laughing; it seemed as though they were walking down a hallway that was filled with raging fire and only Will seemed to be affected. Jack was walking through the flames blissfully ignorant of their burning tongues licking up the walls while Will was gasping at the pain.

The door to Jack’s office suddenly appeared before them and Will’s stomach churned at the knowledge that the owner of that scent was right behind that wall. Anticipation bled through him. His legs shook with the effort not to turn the other way and bolt while his heart hammered against his ribs in retaliation for the door not being opened soon enough. He followed Jack inside and immediately adopted a silent snarl.

The room was like a sauna. Pheromones were practically dripping down the walls and Will forced himself not to react as he walked inside. His first instinct was to start preening and he had an almost unbearable urge to fuss with his hair. Swallowing the impulse, he was unable to help his eyes from lowering to the carpet and his head from tilting away and to the side to expose his neck. His body seemed eager to yield to the powerful Alpha standing quietly by the office window and he felt his excited blood present under the skin of his face in a deep flush.

“Sorry to keep you waiting Dr. Lecter,” Jack nodded to the man, moving around his desk to sit in the large swivel seat behind it. “Will, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He’s helping us work on the Elise Nichols case. Doctor this is Will Graham, our special agent.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Graham.”

The air shifted; the Alpha was suddenly in front of him extending a hand in greeting. A rush of scent came with him, heady and causing Will’s pupils to dilate involuntarily and his mouth to run dry. The words were spoken with a pleasant baritone accent that Will immediately knew he could listen to all day without fail. It coiled in his chest like a purring cat. Glancing up, he snatched one look of the man’s face before its beauty drove his eyes downward once more.

The Alpha was stunning. Obviously from thoroughbred European descent, his frame was built tall and strong with legs that kept going for days. The slick suit he wore defined each limb perfectly and spoke loudly of his rank; this Alpha was an aristocrat and a gentleman. Dark eyes caught Will’s for the briefest moment when he had looked up and the electric zings they sent down his spine were making him twitch. Will wanted to yell at himself, grab his hair and scream at the pathetic way his body was reacting. Why couldn’t he just meet other people like a normal fucking person!?

Almost growling, he managed to grab the offered hand and give it one firm shake before dropping it like a hot poker and filling his pockets with his fists. It was warm and smooth and larger than his own, toned in olive. The Alpha’s grip was strong and a sudden image of that hand spread over Will’s bare stomach made him grind his teeth and stare daggers into the carpet. A wave of heat flooded through him, lingering in his groin and trailing down to his toes and he resisted the urge to flee the room without another word. Oh, wait. He hadn’t said anything yet.

“Nice to meet you,” he muttered.

There followed a pause where Will, still keeping his eyes averted, wondered if he had actually replied or if he had just done so in his head. Wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Dr. Lecter said lightly, amusement lacing his words.

Something clunked in Will’s head and he snapped his eyes up to meet the Alpha, baring his teeth angrily.

“No, not particularly. It’s a little hard to focus when you’re trying to understand what the other person is really thinking. They might be stressed out, that’s why they’re blinking so much, or why are they squinting? Maybe they need glasses. Most of the time people can’t stop staring so yeah, I try to avoid eye contact whenever possible.”

His last word almost ended in a growl and he snatched his gaze away from Dr. Lecter’s sharp cheekbones and back to the roundness of Jack’s face.

“Jack? You wanted to talk about something.”

He crossed his arms tightly across his chest and locked his jaw, determinedly not looking back at Dr. Lecter whose gaze he could feel burning on the side of his face. No way was he going to let an Alpha have the satisfaction of prodding him. Even if said Alpha happened to possibly be the most attractive man he had ever met, or one of the most alluring individuals he had ever come across. No way. Yet he was distracted by the man continuing as though Will hadn’t even spoken to Jack.

“I imagine everything in your mind is touched by what you see and learn on the outside. Your innate decency and moral values are present yet repelled by your associations. No fortresses built around the things you love.”

Will paused, turning back to Dr. Lecter after a moment of incredulity, ignoring the flutter of pleasure in his stomach at the man’s handsomely arranged features and flowing voice. The stranger had described Will to a T and had only been in contact with him for a few moments. Sour vexation rose in him like a scream. He was not some open book to be read at one’s leisure; his pages already had enough rips and tears to last a lifetime. Realization slipped into his mind like vermin.

“Whose profile are you working on?” He demanded. Dr. Lecter said nothing, only stared into Will’s bright blue eyes with an intensity that found its way to the hard line of his shapely lips. Will audibly snarled at his lack of response and turned back to Jack like a wolf finding the scent of his prey again.

“Whose profile is he _working on?"_

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat at Will’s snapped words and distressed scent but merely shrugged.

“Dr. Lecter is a fine therapist, Will. It would be much easier if you cooperated.”

Will was nearly shaking with aggravation. He pressed both splayed hands onto the polished tabletop of Jack’s desk and leaned forwards, hissing through clenched teeth.

“ _Don’t_ psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.”

“I do apologize for the ambush, Will,” Dr. Lecter said calmly, nonplussed with Will’s less-than-friendly behavior. He continued to observe him as though contemplating a bird in a cage. “But I can’t turn mine off any more than you can turn yours off. You’re also an Omega in the role of special agent within the FBI, a position atypical of what your gender usually chooses for a career. Jack merely wishes to ensure your safety. ”

Will turned to him with lowered eyes, still unable to face the Alpha directly as the power of his aura pressed down on him like an invisible hand on the back of his neck. His scent burned its way through his nose and down his throat, reaching below to the coiling warmth in his stomach and turning it white hot. The urge to curl at the man’s feet like an obedient dog was intense but Will forced it down. He wasn’t some love-struck puppy needing to be told where he should be, or some delicate Omega that needed coddling and protecting. He shivered and with massive effort raised his gaze to meet the Doctor’s again.

“Go to hell,” he growled. Livid and without waiting for a response he wrenched open the office door and stalked out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

                                                        

 

The hot water wasn’t working. Will was standing stark naked in the equally stark bathroom of the no-star hotel he was crashing at for the night, one arm thrust between the wall and curtain to judge the temperature. The tap was turned all the way to hot but the water that was pummeling down onto his skin was lukewarm at best.

Resentment and bitterness cycled through him as he stared at the thin white towel he was using for a bathmat.

His introduction to Dr. Lecter had been less than ideal. Why couldn’t he keep it together? Sure, the man happened to be heavily – and heavenly – fragranced but that didn’t mean he had to snap at him, especially when he was trying to help. Something about not biting the hand that feeds came to mind. Being short with his boss probably wasn’t the smartest move either. The way he behaved, he was lucky that he wasn’t being suspended. The thought squirmed like a worm in his stomach.

Jack was the last of his worries though, for it seemed that his body had gone into a state of permanent semi-arousal ever since getting the first lungful of the Alpha’s scent. Apparently his libido wasn’t satisfied with him merely _thinking_ about the Alpha every moment since he had absconded from Crawford’s office, but was determined to keep his body responding until he stopped thinking...or gave it what it wanted.

Heat was still prickling through him, trailing down from his scalp to his fingertips and making each nerve overly sensitive. On top of that, that damned curling cord in his belly wouldn’t stop aching and gave a pathetic twang every time he thought about Dr. Lecter’s chiseled bone structure or those long legs.

Will groaned and raised his free hand to ruffle his hair, an unconscious move to comfort himself. Hannibal’s scent – yes, _Hannibal’s,_ not professional, polite Dr. Lecter but Alpha _Hannibal’s_ scent – suddenly flew up into his nostrils, a little faded but still incredibly potent.

The Omega’s eyes immediately rolled in his head and his body shivered with desire under the bathroom’s harsh fluorescent lights. He realized the Alpha’s pheromones were still all over his hand from when they shook and he had just rubbed the medley into his hair. The rational part of him - a part that seemed microscopic at the moment - wanted to be angry at his body’s blatant response to the musky, spicy scent. It comforted his arguing mind like a soothing salve. It proved impossible though; what he felt was the thrill of having such a powerful Alpha’s scent on him, in his hair, on his skin. It was intoxicating and he wanted more. Wanted it _inside_ him.

The breath of the antlered beast was hot on his face now.

A strangled whimper tore from his throat. He pressed his hand against his nose and open mouth and inhaled deeply, feeling it on his tongue. Hannibal’s aroma invaded his body like a storm, releasing endorphins and introducing a high that was better than any drug. With glazed eyes and a desperation that surprised him Will yanked his arm out of the shower and palmed his growing erection, keeping the hand smeared with Hannibal’s scent pressed to his face. His hips bucked into his dripping hand and he cried out at just how fucking _good_ it felt, ignoring the way his voice echoed hollowly in the small bathroom. How long had it been since he had touched himself? His past hadn’t allowed for much self-love. He had been too busy masking his nature to give in to such basic pleasures but in the shadow of an Alpha such as Hannibal…well, it seemed his natural biology was trying to make up for lost time.

Forgetting the shower completely he turned and braced himself over the toilet, his body humming and jerking as his self-ministrations became frantic and lost their rhythm. Gasping at the electric jolts shooting through him, he moaned as Hannibal’s face flashed in front of his eyes like a negative exposure. Will imagined his eyes would be almost black with blown pupils and those sculpted lips parted in reverence as he watched the Omega pleasure himself.

_“That’s it, Will. Good boy.”_

Will’s ass was abruptly drenched in slick. A choked whine burst from him as Hannibal’s throaty voice sounded in his mind’s ear, his warm breath tickling his earlobe, close as sin. All he wanted was to please him and the Omega within him preened; he wanted Hannibal’s teeth in his shoulder and his strong hands grasping his hips from behind. He wanted to feel his own hot blood roll down his chest.

The intensity built until he couldn’t breathe and with a fierce shudder he climaxed into his hand, clenching his eyes shut and feeling his knees shake with the effort of holding himself up. He pressed his forehead against the cool tile of the wall and shook as he let the orgasm rip through him, unable to stop the mewling whimpers that fell from his lips. Wave after wave of paralyzing bliss scoured his body until he was panting with sweat streaming down his neck and slick dripping down his thighs. His own sugary Omegan scent filled the washroom as if he had suddenly turned it into an orchid nursery; humid and sickly sweet.

With the peaceful relaxation loosening his muscles, a frustration began bleeding into his system as well. It made him grit his teeth and curl his lip despite the pleasure that was still pulsing through him.

_Damn that fucking Alpha._

He thought he had it under control. Wasn’t he doing alright? The pills had been working great – aside from the occasional bout of nausea no one had bothered him in years. Now it had been abruptly flipped around and he was the one reacting as though he had just presented, beating one off at the mere scent of an Alpha that happened to smell especially delicious. It was ridiculous and Will angrily scolded himself.

After a few moments the sound of water hitting the bottom of the tub became audible again as if he were slowly turning up the volume. He let it fill his brain for a while as he caught his breath. Then, shaking, he turned his head and barked a breathless curse as he reached back in and tested the water. It was freezing.

Sleep came easily that night. It was unusually generous in its blessing of six hours straight; normally Will couldn’t even boast four. Natural insomnia mixed with his pills tended to keep unconsciousness at bay. For the most part he also slept like shit in hotel beds – couldn’t stop thinking about how many people had slept in them before him or other unpleasant things they might have done – but after he had abandoned his idea of a shower he fell on top of the faded pink comforter and burrowed his face into a pillow with sleep hot on his heels. It probably had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t experienced an orgasm in close to two years, and for the first time in a long time he forgot to take his usual dose of scent suppressors before bed.

Slumber also came with feverish dreams involving Hannibal. The otherworldly realm was dark and fluid, creating ever-morphing shapes of a huge stag that Will somehow knew was the Alpha. It walked up close to him, breathing tendrils of smoke that didn’t dissipate in the shadows. Inky eyes seemed not to see Will but pierce him. Its presence was threatening and comforting at the same time, promising violent pleasures in which to drown him. He was thigh-deep in warm, thick blood that flowed around him. Its edges were lost to the darkness…a river of blood to hunt in. The gentle splashing of his steps faded as he waded further and deeper out into the red expanse under an endless sky with no stars.

XXX

The lingering notes of Andrea Bocelli’s _‘Con te Partiro’_ filled Hannibal’s kitchen, along with the savory aroma of simmering onions and garlic. Glistening appliances and dark granite complimented each other in the large area, reflecting the psychiatrist’s refined style and taste for luxury. The spread of ingredients around him mirrored their surroundings; exotic, sumptuous, and lavish.

Over two dozen quail eggs nested in a glass dish surrounded by cuts of fresh thyme and oregano. They had been delivered that morning and carefully washed. Plump lemons and pomegranates added a zest of color against the black-veined counter top with one of the latter split in half to reveal the many succulent treasures embedded within. Various fresh vegetables filled the gaps, some already prepared and waiting in dishes such as green onions, finely diced red and yellow peppers, and beautiful black trumpet mushrooms. A thick wedge of sharp pecorino sat atop a metal grater, waiting patiently to be shredded. Its neighbor, a dense loaf of black pumpernickel, was gently folded in white linen with a small ramekin of whipped cream cheese by its side.

The man himself moved fluidly and gracefully, the very picture of control and skill as he manipulated the food around him into art. Underneath the white rolled sleeves of his collared shirt the muscles of his forearms were easily visible as they flexed under sun-brushed skin, a taste of the power that lay dormant in the rest of him. It could be glimpsed in the brief twist of his torso or the momentary tightness of the muscles in his throat. The man was a carefully wrapped weapon in expensive clothes.

Each kitchen implement, knives in particular, were an extension of his body. The Alpha quietly reveled in his ability to shape the world around him with such simple tools; he had been doing it for years, carving it into something more…aesthetic. His palette had been a spectrum of media used to implement his designs including kitchen knives (Japanese of course), various scalpels, and higonokami pocket knives which he was especially partial to. If the opportunity happened to present itself where he needed to be resourceful then anything was possible. Adaptation was a skill he reveled in and it was amazingly useful in the implementation of creativity. He once killed a man by strangling him with his own intestines.

A satisfied smirk played around his bowed lips as he retrieved a plump liver from the fridge where it had been resting in a bowl of milk. The wine-colored organ was slick in his hands but he handled it adeptly and carefully laid it into a pan of melted, slightly bubbling butter on the stove.

Deep primal pleasure hunkered inside him at the thought of feeding that fascinating Omega, Will Graham. From a young age Hannibal had been skilled at controlling his Alpha instincts, learning exactly what triggered them and using willpower alone to avoid any embarrassing or awkward situations. He had years of practice. Pharmaceuticals and scent suppressors were out of the question; he considered his body a temple and ensured no unnecessary drugs or chemicals entered his system. Many Alphas used them so that they were unable to detect certain pheromones but Hannibal had sculpted his natural drives so rigorously that even coming into contact with fully scented Omegas was possible without reacting.

This Omega was different, though. Ever since Will stepped into his presence he had been captivated and he wasn’t sure what had stunned him more; his captivation or the fact that he was captivated. No one had evicted a response in him like that before and it startled him at how easily the man had slipped under his defenses.

Will Graham had the look of a drawn, sullen, and pale man that had forgotten the warmth of sunlight. He also looked like he hadn’t had a good meal in days, maybe weeks, and carried himself like he was afraid to be noticed. His stiff posture and averting eyes were telltale signs as well as those repulsive scent suppressors, easily recognized by their bitter undertones. The natural Omega scent that should have been rolling from his skin like smoke from a bonfire had been quashed to near-Beta levels. However Hannibal’s sensitive nose had picked up traces of the unique fragrance beneath; crisp pine and cold, fresh water flowing through a winter forest. It was positively magnetic and the Alpha felt his mouth water, a natural reaction to better taste the scent in the air. Even the suppressed pheromones had gently tugged at his sensibilities and for one brief moment he was amazed to feel his body move towards him as if to offer comfort or protection. Luckily he had proffered his hand in time to hide the impulsive action but the fact remained that he had been rattled for the first time in a long time, and that in itself was unnerving.

The same icy water that flowed under the Omega's skin was mirrored in his eyes. Riveting eyes, Hannibal reflected as a small surge of approval pitched in his chest as he remembered how strikingly blue they had been when they had flashed up angrily at him in Jack’s office.

He wanted to offer Will fresh quality food that would sustain his body, and the image of him eating his fastidiously prepared meal, human flesh and all, filled the Alpha with dark satisfaction. It was also the perfect excuse to have a proper conversation with the man without being under the watchful eye of Jack Crawford. Normally he wouldn’t invest this much interest in an Omega but this one had somehow chosen a career that dealt with violence and horror on a daily basis, an almost impossible thought for such a sensitive and caring gender. There must be something hiding underneath the skin and Hannibal was all but delighted to dig it out.

As the last wavering note sounded from Bocelli’s impressive pipes he began cracking quail eggs with a veiled smile.

XXX

A strong hand grasped Will by the arm and pulled him from the ocean of blood he was drowning in.

Gasping, he was snatched from slumber and fully expected to be drenched in red. Looking down he was surprised to see nothing more than the tangled sheets around his waist and legs, faded white but otherwise devoid of gore. He realized he was shaking and his head was pounding; he felt sick. Perhaps he had been dreaming of drowning because he was covered in a sheen of sweat that bled out into the sheets around him.

For a moment he merely sat and caught his breath, trying to dispel the feeling of blood in his lungs when the quiet morning air of his dingy hotel room was broken by the sound of knocking.

Will glanced at the clock on the bedside table that read 7:23am in glowing red. _Yeah, no way._ He wasn’t going to rush for someone this early in the morning. Whoever it was could damn well wait, especially when he was feeling like his head was going to split. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he doubled over as a wave of nausea flowed down from the pain pulsing in his brain. A broken sound of distress flew unbidden from him as he cradled his abdomen.

That’s when the scent hit him. Will snapped his face up towards the door, blue eyes widening in shock. It was definitely Hannibal again. The smell of sweet whiskey and warmth was drifting through the cracks around the door, strong as ever and demanding to be acknowledged. It soothed his pounding head and cradled him like a lover, making him want to close his eyes and breathe it in until he knew nothing else. Twisting around him, it drew him up from the bed and forced him to step forward.

Growling, Will dug his heels into the shabby carpet. _Fuck that._ He wasn’t some goddamn marionette for Hannibal to control, although his body was begging the opposite. No, he was an adult man with his own life and priorities and plus, he was still completely naked.

The knowledge had a sobering effect for his next breath brought with it the other smells in the air and a flush immediately rose in his face.

His room was humid with Omega pheromones. They were oozing from his skin, free of the suppressant and returning with a vengeance. It also didn’t help that he hadn’t managed to shower the night before; a medley of bodily scents were clinging to him, a little stale but blatantly obvious as to what he had been up to a few hours previous. Dried slick coated the insides of his thighs and was smeared into the bed sheets. Its sweetness still hung in the air, faded but painfully recognizable.

Grimacing and groaning with embarrassment, Will took as long as possible in finding a fresh shirt and boxers, fighting his whining Omegan instincts that were pleading with him to hurry to the door and fling it open. It was only when he decided against donning a full four-layer suit complete with tie and amenities that he finally obeyed his shaking body and moved to the entrance. The Alpha’s scent collided with him through the thin wood and he struggled not to let a pleading whimper escape him.

His fingers were clumsy with haste as he unlocked the door. When it finally opened a stream of brilliant orange sunlight pierced his vision and for a moment he merely stood blinking like a newborn thing.

Hannibal’s scent washed over him like a warm fog and threatened to steal the stability from the Omega’s knees.

“Good morning, Will. May I come in?”


	4. Chapter 4

 

                                       

“Er, good morning,” Will said awkwardly as he shielded his eyes from the sun with a raised hand. Out in the open air the Alpha’s scent sang to him and filled his head with blurry pleasure in reward for opening the door. The churning ball in his stomach tightened, sending a deep pulse of warmth through his groin and down his legs. It almost made him hiss.

Hannibal was just visible, a silhouette with vague human details against the bright sun but he could make out the shapes of Tupperware containers and a thermos he was holding. He could also feel the Alpha’s eyes on him as though they were his hands and heard the distinct sound of a quick inhale through the nose.

“Where’s Crawford?” he managed.

“Preoccupied with court matters,” came the accented reply after a moment, presumably to recover from Will’s abruptness. “Today’s adventure is yours and mine alone.”

Even though he was half-blinded Will had to bite his lip; the man was gorgeous. Dark, burnt golden hair was swept to the side, illuminated from behind and looking heavenly. His proud, refined face was tilted slightly as he appraised the Omega.

There was a playfulness to his words that sent a flutter down Will’s spine but he stood resolute in the doorway, plainly aware that he was dressed only in a shirt and boxers and the inside of his room smelled heavily of slick and sweat. It would be inappropriate to let the doctor in with his room in this state and he would have to come up with some excuse to get him to leave, even though he probably already knew what was glazed down the insides of his thighs.

“If you give me a few minutes I can meet you - ”

“Are you really going to turn away the person who made you breakfast, Will?”

Will caught the gleam in Hannibal’s eyes and he clenched his jaw. _The Alpha had made food for him?_

“Ah, that’s very kind of you doctor, but - ”

“I really must insist,” Hannibal continued mildly, although Will could discern a quiet tone of dominance in the words. “My generosity and patience are not endless and I promise you an untidy hotel room will not faze me…and you wouldn’t want the food to get cold.”

The change in tone, as minute as it was, was enough to make the Omega want to utter a whine of submission and let the Alpha in immediately but he crossed his arms instead and dropped his gaze to the ground. The morning sun shone eagerly on him as if to illuminate his disobedience. The act of rebellion felt foreign and his body shuddered with the effort of it but he held fast; no way was he going to humiliate himself in front of the refined psychiatrist, even if it meant being a little rude.

He didn’t anticipate Hannibal’s next move, however.

The Alpha reached out swiftly and with a hand that was surprisingly gentle, pushed the dark mess of curls away from Will’s forehead and took his temperature.

The Omega froze in place, his breath tangling somewhere in his ribs. His heart struck up a frenzied rhythm at the contact; no one had touched him that intimately in years. The sensation was both foreign and achingly familiar and a rush of pure pleasure washed over him. Instinctively Will pressed into the Alpha’s hand and his eyes slid shut. This was _good._

Hannibal’s palm was hot against his clammy skin. It brought with it the scent of fire and spiced whiskey mixed with blood, the same scent that had driven him to come merely hours ago. The memory ignited in his lungs and he was unable to stop the shuddering breath from escaping him. This was probably not the best idea.

“You are not well, Will,” Hannibal’s voice drifted to him. “A certain sweetness about the skin denotes the beginning of a fever. You are very warm.”

“I tend to run hot,” Will found himself answering, his words slightly slurred. He wasn’t going to admit how good it felt to be touched, even as innocently as having his temperature taken, but it felt even better to be cared for and he relished the idea. The Omega inside him was beginning to purr, a withered, emaciated creature that had been denied affection for far too long.

The delicious warmth on his forehead was removed and he almost stumbled at the loss of contact.

“All the same, I’m not leaving until I see you get some food in you,” Hannibal said with a small smile, “and I guarantee you will enjoy my cooking.”

He watched the wheels turn in Will’s head, adorably transparent as to what he was thinking. A strong Alpha was standing outside his door with an offering of breakfast; that was his first issue. To turn down something like that was akin to spitting in Hannibal’s face. Secondly, it was obvious that his hotel room wasn’t exactly fresh, but it was far from unpleasant and hunger was driving Will to accept. His stomach had been betraying him from the moment he had opened the door and another source of food wasn’t readily available. It looked like he was going to have to be sociable.

The Omega bit his lip and flashed his eyes up to Hannibal’s. Defeated but still defensive, he nodded shallowly and moved to the side.

Quietly vibrating with triumph, Hannibal stepped into the hotel room with a hidden smirk.

A rush of cool aromatic air met him and he had to grit his teeth to stop from growling in pleasure. The Omega’s scent was thick and condensed in the small area, much stronger than when they were back in Jack’s office and seemed to cling to the Alpha like cellophane. It was obvious Will was off the suppressants or had forgotten to take them.

The sensation of walking into a forest on the edge of winter was overpowering. Fresh cut pine hung sharp in the air and Hannibal could almost feel the branches brush his face as he stepped further inside. It was refreshing and cooled the insides of his nostrils like mint. A delicate sweetness underlined it like the sticky sap that bleeds down the trunks of maples. Intrigued, he let his breath go and was surprised when he couldn’t see it billow out in front of him from the cold. If only his reaction were that mild.

Hannibal could _feel_ his pupils expand until he was sure there was no color left, and his eyes began to burn. Blood was beginning to pulse around the irises, all the better to see where the source of that incredible smell was. He needed more of that scent, needed it smeared on his skin, in his mouth, on his cock, _everywhere._

It was the fragrance wafting through the closed bathroom door that made a muscle twitch in his neck, violently yanking his meticulously controlled urges to the surface. He smelled slick, aged several hours but still potently present in the air, and the aftermath of an orgasm. A _delicious_ orgasm. He actually paused for a moment to catch his breath, or rather, _stop_ breathing for a moment to gather his senses together. The Omega had touched himself, here, last night, and the knowledge made him want to bare his teeth possessively and demand that Will start stripping for him, slowly, and make him show the Alpha _exactly_ what he had been doing.

Thin threads of concern were drifting from Will and it took a large amount of restraint to move calmly to the small table by the window and start arranging the breakfast dishes. Making the Omega feel comfortable was paramount; if he felt threatened in any way he was liable to become distrustful and distant. Hannibal needed him pliable, open, willing.

A blur of motion caught his eye. Will, in a quick move of modesty, had donned a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around himself like a security blanket as if sensing Hannibal’s thoughts. The deed was done though, and a thin material wrap wasn’t going to prevent that scent from getting through. He shuffled to the table and sat down, determined to keep his eyes downcast.

“I’m very careful about what I put into my body,” Hannibal stated evenly, appreciating the way the Will’s cheeks flushed, “which means I end up preparing almost all meals myself. A protein scramble of eggs and liver, a nice healthy start to the day. I hope it will make you feel better.”

He placed the steaming dish before Will and sat down opposite him, preparing to pour coffee.

“This is delicious, thank you,” Will mumbled begrudgingly as he forked a thick slice of liver into his mouth. Hannibal’s eyes followed the movement from start to finish.

“My pleasure.”

Will had fallen to the food eagerly, unable to resist the mouth-watering smell of home cooking. He didn’t realize how hungry he was; he couldn’t remember the last time he had a properly prepared meal. The vending machines outside his lecture theatre and TV dinners at home had been his staples and he often forgot to eat altogether, especially when assigned to particularly unpleasant cases that required extra work hours. Amid all the skills and intricacies of Will Graham, the art of cooking was not one of them and the complex flavors of the carefully made breakfast made him greatly appreciate the ability. Including the Alpha sitting across from him.

Having someone cook for him was an alien notion but highly appealing as he filled his body with quality nourishment. Feeling thoroughly grateful at the friendly gesture, he let out a tiny pleased groan as he bit into a hot cherry tomato that burst in his mouth.

Across the small table Hannibal poured hot coffee into two mugs, focusing intently on the motions and conscious to keep his own directly underneath his nose. _Floral, smooth, light acidity_ …anything to mask the scent of enticing, tantalizing, _Will._ It was everywhere, invading like a stubborn virus. Keeping calm was proving difficult, and was taking nearly all his willpower not to sweep the food aside and lunge at the man. The satisfied noise that had just come out of him wasn’t helping; it made the Alpha want to preen with pleasure and shrug out of his jacket, all the better to show off his toned arms and shoulders and allow his own scent to disperse more freely. Inwardly shaking his head at his impulses, he sipped his coffee.

_I can offer you more than this, Will. So much more. I want to hear the sounds you’ll make bathed in blood._

The idea was a quiet birth in the darkness.

Will flicked his eyes up and caught his gaze as if reading his mind. Hannibal looked back unblinkingly over the rim of his mug, offering an unreadable smile.

The Omega flinched and those blue eyes darted away like a pair of spooked jays. It didn’t take a doctoral degree to see that this man wasn’t used to being alone in the same room with an Alpha, and it made Hannibal wonder if some kind of abuse shadowed his past. He wouldn’t be the first to experience violence like that, and the idea of another Alpha touching Will made a possessive growl build in the back of his throat.

”I would apologize for my analytical ambush,” he continued, dispelling the urge, “but I’ll soon be apologizing again and will need to use them sparingly.”

“Just keep it professional.”

Will couldn’t keep the bitterness out of the quipped retort. If anything the past had taught him to never trust an Alpha, especially a very good smelling, gentlemanly one such as Hannibal Lecter. The nicer they looked on the outside, the darker they seemed to be on the inside and he didn’t need another pushy Alpha messing around with his emotions. Even if they smelled like butterscotch whiskey and sex and he had already jerked himself off over a mere whiff of it.

“Or we could socialize like adults. God forbid we become friendly,” Hannibal countered with a sly look.

Will carefully chewed another spear of liver and swallowed, avoiding his eyes.

“I don’t find you that interesting.”

The Alpha in Hannibal reared and bared its long, sharp teeth.

“You will.”

He said it mildly but his stare drilled into the soft skin of Will’s eyelids, daring him to look up. This Omega was stubborn and didn’t comply.

A brief moment passed where they ate in silence, a sense of rigidity hanging in the slice of sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains.

“Beverly found a small piece of metal in Elise Nichols’ clothes. It’s from a pipe shredder,” Will stated, breaking the quiet like an artist breaks the pure white of his canvas with the stroke of a pencil. He wanted to change the subject; his stomach had tightened. Perhaps letting his temper rule his manners wasn’t smart, especially considering the man had made him breakfast. Like, really good breakfast.

“Jack Crawford wants me to ensure you remain sane…searching for pipe-threaders?” Hannibal asked, easy and casual as ever like the pause had never happened. He had sensed Will’s discomfort and draped an amused tone over his words to calm him. “There must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota.”

The Omega visibly relaxed. His swathed shoulders slumped and a relieved smile broke his tight expression. He was glad the conversation had switched to boring bits of metal.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “I guess I’m his bloodhound for today. The metal comes from a certain kind of pipe with a distinct coating. So we’re searching through sites that use that kind of pipe.”

“And what are we looking for?”

“Anything unusual at this point,” Will shrugged, taking a long swig of coffee.

Hannibal ate up the contractions of his pale throat as he swallowed and imagined what it would feel like against his lips. The man was truly beautiful, even under a thin veil of fever. Those big doe eyes framed in long dark lashes and full, pouty lips were a magnet for any Alpha. His lithe but toned body was easily visible beneath the thin sheet and his sweet scent was filling this Alpha’s head with delicious images that he would love to bring to fruition.

“I see. You know what, Will?” A thrill of pleasure raced through him as the Omega hesitantly looked up at him. “I think Uncle Jack sees you as a fragile little tea-cup, the finest china only used for special guests.”

Will’s gaze flickered but didn’t falter.

“I trust Jack,” he said simply. A moment later, he blurted out, “How do _you_ see me?”

A rare moment of transparency. The man wanted to know what the Alpha thought of him. The idea and sent a shiver down Hannibal’s spine. Best not reply too obviously; he didn’t want to frighten the Omega away with the pure, unfiltered truth.

“The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by,” he replied softly.

Will wasn’t sure if the slowly roiling coil in his stomach was because he was sick or because Hannibal’s voice was like silken, liquid poetry that ignited his insides like wildfire. It was praise wrapped in a metaphor and he had never heard anyone speak like that before. He was trying to wrap his tongue around an answer when Hannibal spared him the effort.

“Alas, time carries on with or without us. Finish your breakfast, Will,” he said politely, and the Omega found himself trying very hard not to attack the rest of his food with renewed vigor.


	5. Chapter 5

 

                            

A cold, dry autumn sun peered down through sparse clouds like a young woman might peek through lace curtains.

The construction site below stretched a good three blocks, an expanse of dirt mounds, heavy equipment, and scrap metal. A dozen or so workers moved about the area, easily identified by the bright yellow hard hats and orange vests they all wore.

The glare of the sun made Will blink uneasily as he stepped out of Hannibal’s sleek BMW. He tried to keep indoors on sunny days whenever possible. It made him feel vulnerable, too wide out in the open. The comfort of low, grey ceilings or the cover of darkness was his preferred weather.

A dull pounding in the back of his skull made him roll his neck before shutting the door. A migraine was upon him and just starting to embed thin needles of pain down his neck and shoulders. It was an unfortunate side effect of not taking his usual dose of suppressants and the knowledge made him grind his teeth in self-reproach. He _never_ forgot.

Back at the hotel, in his haste to get ready after Hannibal had offered to wait in the car, Will had scrambled to bathe and dress without taking longer than absolutely necessary. To his dismay the water in the bathroom was still denying him heat. He ended up taking a frigid shower anyway, all the while with his insides screaming to get back to the Alpha that was waiting for him outside. His preoccupation with _that_ particular urge, along with the frustration of having to take a cold shower, made him rush out the door without the familiar little bottle – along with his socks. He had gone back for the latters with a flushed face, completely forgetting about the pills after Hannibal made an amused comment about his bare ankles.

Twenty minutes of driving to this particular site on the outskirts of Baltimore locked in a car with the Alpha hadn’t done much to calm his head either. Will had his window rolled down the entire way, preferring to have his face blasted with cold air rather than endure Hannibal’s irresistible scent. The embarrassment he knew he would suffer at the behest of his bodily drives kept him occupied. He knew that Hannibal’s magnetic aura, if remained unchecked, would swiftly deteriorate inhibitions and flood the Omega’s body with hormones that would tell him yes, now would most definitely be a good time to fuck.

And that absolutely was _not_ going to happen.

He received a couple of questioning looks from said Alpha for the strange behavior but otherwise the ride had gone smoothly.

“Will, are you all right?” Hannibal uttered presently, his voice warbling and distorted as if coming from far away.

Will opened his eyes, not realizing they had been closed. Looking up in confusion he saw the doctor walk around the vehicle, concern barely concealed on his face. It was apparent from his furrowed brow and the slight downturned corners of his lips. The dark trench coat he was wearing accentuated his height and long, straight lines of his body, with a supple plaid scarf around the throat to add some softness. Will followed them from top to bottom hungrily, unable to stop himself despite the pain knotted at the base of his skull.

As Hannibal approached his head tilted slightly with a focus that made him look positively jaw-dropping. A rush of sweet scotch and musk hit the afflicted Omega and he had to clench his fists to stop from whimpering to encourage the Alpha to come closer.

“I’m fine,” he sputtered instead, pressing his back to the glossy car behind him and dragging a hand over his face. “Just a headache.”

Hannibal’s scent intensified and Will dropped his arm. The man appeared right in front of him, frowning deeper as if reprimanding him for some unknown wrongdoing. He couldn’t take his eyes off the curves of those lips.

“Where does it hurt, Will?”

His voice was unbearably soft and full of _knowing,_ as if he could browse through Will’s thoughts and feelings as easily as flipping through a magazine. Brief irritation sparked inside him at that, but he was feeling too unsteady to act on it.

“Back of my head,” he muttered, relinquishing his view of Hannibal’s lips and dropping his eyes to the ground. It felt good to be questioned about his health and even better to obey a direct question from a strong Alpha. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had besides Jack Crawford and he didn’t count.

Will eased his neck to the side at the soothing pressure of Hannibal’s presence. It whispered to him to stay, to close his eyes, to _submit_. Remembering the heavy heat of his palm as he had cradled his forehead back at the hotel, he yearned to feel it again.

“Omegas tend to store stress in the deep muscles of the shoulders and neck,” Hannibal said softly, dark green eyes searching Will’s distressed form and breathing his scent into his lungs. It was an exquisite perfume, a fresh cut of wild pine with the sweet note of blood among the needles. “That, and along with not taking your suppressants I’m sure you must be uncomfortable. Would you allow a brief massage? It would do wonders for that headache.”

Will’s stomach tightened in anticipation before he even replied, betraying his thoughts which had become a blur. He wanted the Alpha to touch him again…and he didn’t. Memories of the past surfaced like ugly creatures with gaping mouths, reminding him that nearly all previous physical interactions led to violence in one way or another. The scars he kept hidden proved it, but Hannibal was different. He was a gentleman, refined and courteous, and refusing an Alpha like that who offered him relief was insane. Plus, back at the hotel nothing inappropriate had happened and it very well could have.

The knowledge spiked his conviction and he raised his eyes to meet Hannibal’s.

“I-I yes, thank you.”

With a dark inward smile Hannibal struck like a snake, reaching out to gently cradle the side of Will’s enticing throat. Reveling in the jerk that followed, the Alpha uttered a low soothing murmur to ease him. The effect was instant; Will’s body relaxed into his touch and he exhaled a long breath that had been trapped in his chest. Those pretty eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted.

Amazed at the Omega’s encouraging reaction, Hannibal began applying steady pressure to the firm muscles of Will’s neck with his fingertips, moving them in slow, comforting circles. A slow, liquid burn made its way through the inside of his body as he watched Will hastily bite his lower lip to prevent the sound that was obviously building in him. Hannibal pressed harder, wanting to hear it, needing to know the sound of his feelings made vocal.

A twitch racked Will’s body and he groaned through clenched teeth, a desperate sound barely the length of his breath. It caught fire in Hannibal’s core and for one moment he wondered that he might just press this trembling Omega against his car and ravage him in broad daylight in front of the construction workers and whoever else may be watching. That, however, would not be beneficial in gaining Will’s trust and he gained a modicum of control.

“Will - ”

“Please stop touching me.”

Surprise made Hannibal drop his hand immediately from the warmth of Will’s neck. The man’s face had gone pale and his gaze was hovering somewhere near his shoes. The sour smell of fear had suddenly tainted his lush fragrance and the Alpha backed up to give him space.

“I’m sorry,” he said genuinely, wondering what could have triggered such a reaction. Concern quashed his arousal like a snuffed flame and his skin prickled with the knowledge that something _he_ had done made him respond so negatively. Hannibal was steadily planning on becoming Will’s anchor, his rock, the one he would go to in need. If he flinched and soured at his mere touch, things needed to change. The urge to comfort the Omega was extreme but the Alpha knew it wasn’t possible; he consented to stay where he was and not press him.

Will just shook his head and crossed his arms, still not meeting his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” he muttered. “I’m fine.”

It was apparent that nothing of the sort was true, but this was neither the time nor place to discuss it. Hannibal was already organizing ways in which to peel back Will’s defenses, layer by layer, until he reached the sweet core of truth deep in the center of him.

And oh, how sweet it would be.

XXX

“Did Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?” Will asked the confused-looking secretary, “Eighteen or nineteen, plain but pretty with auburn hair?”

They had arrived at a portable office on the construction site, aka a metal box filled with filing cabinets, one desk, and a mousy Beta by the name of Dixie. Suspicion and concern wafted from her at the appearance of the strong Alpha and heavily scented Omega.

Hannibal busied himself by looking through a folder of resignation letters; Dixie hadn’t offered to retrieve it for them.

“Might have. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t keep company with these people,” she quipped rudely, keeping her lips tight.

Hannibal handed Will a letter with ‘Garret Jacob Hobbs’ at the top, giving Dixie a dark look. She would do well sliced up in a mince pie with delicate flaky crust, seasoned with cinnamon and nutmeg. Will would find her positively _delightful_ then…

“He left a phone number with no address,” Will observed, frowning slightly.

“Therefore he has something to hide?” Hannibal said lightly, standing closely behind him to read over his shoulder.

Will tilted his head in a half-shrug, unconsciously leaning nearer.

“Everyone else left one. Do you have an address for Mr. Hobbs?”

A few minutes later found Hannibal passing boxes of files to Will and Dixie to bring to the car. She was incredulous at being asked to help carry them but Hannibal had given her a look that suggested she assist…or else.

At handing over the last box, Hannibal allowed himself to upend it while handing it to Dixie, spilling papers across the ground. Huffing, she bent to retrieve them with Will assisting like the kind-hearted Omega he was.

Smirking at her reaction, Hannibal used the time to quietly close the office door and move to the ancient rotary on the desk. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and dialed Garret Jacob Hobbs’ number with a covered finger. It was time to _stir the pot,_ so to speak. If everything went well, Will would have no choice but to fall into his waiting arms – Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom would demand it.

_Bloomington, Minnesota_

The rolling bell of the kitchen telephone stirred Abigail Hobbs from her task of chopping carrots beside her father. She set down the large knife and brushed her hands briefly on her jeans before answering it.

“Hello? Yeah, just a second.”

Pale blue eyes turned to her father curiously and she held out the phone to him.

“Dad? It’s for you.”

Garret Jacob Hobbs took the handheld, his expression one of suppressed wariness.

“Who is it?”

“Caller ID said it was blocked,” she replied before turning back to the carrots.

Hobbs pressed the phone to his ear, his gaze jumping around the room as though unsure where to look.

“Hello?”

_Construction Trailer Office_

A calculating smile, small but meaningful, passed across Hannibal’s face.

“Mister Garret Jacob Hobbs?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know me and I suspect we’ll never meet. This is a courtesy call – are you listening?”

“...yes.”

He paused significantly before continuing.

“They know.”

XXX

As soon as Hannibal pulled up into the Hobbs’ driveway, Will saw the door of the cozy home get flung open. A middle-aged man, presumably Garret Jacob Hobbs, emerged looking wild and hauling his wife with him; he shoved her onto the small concrete porch and retreated back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

Will didn’t even think; he saw himself burst out of Hannibal’s car and race to the fallen and bloodied Beta. Blood was gushing out of a gaping wound in her neck in thick spurts and she collapsed onto her back.

_No, no, no-!_

Dropping to his knees beside her, he tried to stem the flow of blood with his hands but she was already dead. Her face was pale as crimson bled from her and in mere moments she was still.

Anger welled in him, dark and thick like smoke. Seeing a mate so carelessly disposed of was disgusting and infuriating and Will’s vision tinged with red. Snarling, he gathered his strength and rammed his shoulder into the painted wooden door. It cracked but didn’t break. Heaving, he lined up again and put all of his force into a well-placed kick, this time smashing it open. Drawing his gun, he lurched into the house, assaulted by the dense musky scent of the unfamiliar male Alpha.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs, FBI!”

He followed it through a dark living room and into the kitchen where he was met with an alarming sight.

Hobbs was holding his daughter with a knife to her throat, baring his teeth and growling loudly. His cold grey eyes were wide with madness and fervor and fixed on Will with disturbing focus. The scent issuing from his skin was electric and filled the room with intense energy. Abigail was whimpering and gripping his arms tightly as if trying to seek comfort from the one that was threatening her life. Tears of fear and panic rolled down her face and she looked at Will as if begging him to save her.

Each sound was amplified in Will’s brain; the heavy breathing of Hobbs, Abigail’s sounds of terror, and his own blood pounding in his ears was making it difficult to think clearly. He knew he only had mere moments to react.

He tried to raise his gun quickly but everything was happening in slow motion. Somehow only his heartbeat was in real-time, not raging in a quick, fearful staccato but steady with heavy thumps that shook his ribs. The gun reached shoulder height before time caught the gist and sped back up to normalcy.

Hobbs slashed his daughter’ throat with one wide arc and Will was firing before he realized he was pulling the trigger.

The Alpha reeled backwards after six, seven, eight rounds were pumped into him and he collided with the counter. Abigail collapsed to the tiled floor, arterial spurts of blood decorating the faded yellow flower pattern.

Will fired two more times, bringing the Alpha down where he fell into a semi-sitting position against the kitchen cabinets. His expression was that of shock as though he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

Turning from the murderer the Omega fell to Abigail’s side, not feeling his knees hit the floor. A mirror of her mother, thick blood was pouring from the gaping wound at the young girl’s throat and he scrambled to put pressure on it with his bare hands. The organic, slightly metallic scent of it rose to him, warm and coppery. So much was coming out, so _much…_

A buzzing numbness was steadily filling his brain as he watched her face contort with pain, fear, and confusion. She kept trying to look over at her father.

Will followed her eyes up to Hobbs’.

“See?” The dying Alpha whispered as their gazes connected. “See?”

The room darkened around them and grew colder. The tiled floor became slick black ice and wisps of snow began falling from the void above. Emptiness took the place of the kitchen around them and Hobbs’ eyes became dead pools of moonlight in the shadows, staring eerily at him, challenging the Omega to understand, to _know_.

Will wanted none of it – he tore his eyes from the Alpha and turned to the sticky warmth that was pooling around him, shaking with the effort to stay sane.

Abigail Hobbs was dead under his hands, milky white eyes staring up at him almost reproachfully. The skin of her throat felt rubbery as he tried to hold it together but blood was pouring out too fast, much too fast – it was soaking his knees and creeping up the sides of Abigail’s body. Soon it had covered her until only her pale face remained on the surface. Still he tried to save her, holding his hands tightly around her neck even though he was up to his wrists in warm blood.

The sound of hooves sloshing behind him signaled the arrival of the antlered beast. It was huge, a monster of a stag, with glossy black feathers that ruffled drily as they moved. It breathed a long stream of air down the back of Will’s neck, making him shiver as he stared into the blank face of Abigail Hobbs, floating in blood. It was applauding him, _proud_ of him.

“Will? It’s alright, let go. I’ve got her.”

The cold blackness fell away like a veil and Hannibal’s face appeared on the other side, surrounded by the domestic scene of the Hobbs’ kitchen. He was facing Will calmly, gently pressing his hand against Abigail’s wound. His familiar scent came with him, dominating all others and shrouding Will in its warmth like a protective animal. It mixed with the headiness of Abigail’s blood, creating a cocktail of pheromones that sent his head swimming.

Hannibal was here, _right_ here, and Abigail was still alive. It was going to be okay…

He nodded shakily. Feeling the Alpha’s hands against his own made him shudder but he relinquished his grip; he was no doctor and Hannibal clearly knew what he was doing.

_See?_

Will balked and fell backwards, snapping his head around to where Hobbs’ body lay reclined against the cupboards. Echoing laughter and the one-syllable word echoed in his head, not from between the man’s unmoving lips but directly into his mind. Sharp fear stung him like insects.

“Will? _Will!”_

It grew in volume, threatening to pull him back down into darkness. A trembling groan escaped him and with eyes rolling, the Omega collapsed.


	6. Chapter 6

                                                            

 

Garret Jacob Hobbs was holding Will down under the running current of blood, straddling his hips to prevent him from escaping. His menacing features warbled through the liquid lens as his strong, dead fingers closed tightly around the struggling Omega’s throat.

Will could hardly move. He seemed almost paralyzed under the Alpha’s weight; there was nothing he could do but scream inaudibly, trapped by the current that flowed endlessly from Abigail’s opened artery far away and distant where he couldn’t save her.

It filled his mouth and nose, invaded his eyes and sealed his ears with thick, liquid warmth. All sound was blocked except that of his own desperate pulse drumming in his head. The muteness was terrifying but then Hobbs’ deranged laughter sounded close to his ear, clear as day.

“Don’t you _see,_ Omega? Oh, I wish you would. So many are looking but so few actually _see.”_

Will felt his back grind painfully into the rough stones below from the Alpha’s weight and his own blood was added to the warm flow. He didn’t _want_ to see, didn’t want to know what Hobbs meant. His heart was beating a terrified rhythm against his ribs, needing oxygen, demanding it. The Alpha was dead, Will had killed him, but now _he_ was the one being murdered.

Hannibal. He needed Hannibal. He could make this all go away…

Hobbs snarled. The sound shot like lightning through Will’s head and suddenly he felt himself get yanked up out of the stream. The Alpha pulled him to his chest, growling audibly and gripping the Omega’s waist possessively. Will flinched against the cold body but could do nothing but allow himself to be held up as he gasped for air in between bouts of retching blood.

“Your doctor hides behind a mask of darkness,” Hobbs whispered wetly, nuzzling into Will’s dripping ear. Blood smeared across his face. He took the Omega’s lobe between his teeth and bit down, evicting a high-pitched whimper. “He will try to pull you down into the blackness with him. _He_ will try to make you see.”

“No, no, no…” Will breathed, unable to see from the blood dripping into his eyes. “Let me go.”

Hobbs’ laughter echoed in his mind and all around him and those dead arms released him as requested. Back into the red river he plunged, into a deep hole that went down and down and down.

XXX

Will sat on the edge of one of the overstuffed chairs of Hannibal’s elegant waiting room. It was small but luxurious, with detailed crown molding and olde-style lanterns illuminating it with a soft glow. The deep crimson of the walls added a dreamy sense of grandeur. There was no magazine rack; Dr. Lecter would never have such a gauche thing in his office entranceway and besides, he would never make his patients wait.

Cracking each knuckle in succession in a bout of anxiety, Will realized he hadn’t seen him in almost three days.

From Alana Bloom’s account two nights previous, paramedics had lifted him unconscious from the Hobbs’ home along with Abigail and driven to a nearby hospital. They treated him for suppressant withdrawal and shock while she went into surgery.

A tiny smile had played around Alana’s mouth as she reported that Hannibal had not allowed the medics to leave the scene without him; he had apparently demanded to ride in the ambulance with Will and had hardly left his side since then.

He had awoken in the hospital room alone however, and Hannibal’s scent was agonizingly faint. A nurse arrived quickly with a prescription to get him back on suppressants, though a lower dose, and released him to Alana. She was relieved to see that he wasn’t hurt. Shaken yes, but they could deal with shaken.

She gave him a ride from the hospital and upon dropping him off at his country home in Wolftrap, offered to stay the night. Will thanked her but refused, saying that he just needed to collect himself without the distraction of anyone else’s presence. He wasn’t lying exactly, but he knew that her companionship would do more harm than good. It wasn’t a friendly female Beta he needed.

There followed a day of much needed rest and down-time with his dogs. Their happy energy and bright spirits kept him from getting too deep into his head but the last two nights had been spent in the company of persistent nightmares. The early hours of the morning found him shaking and whimpering, curled around his pillows and blankets as if searching for reassurance. His dogs would be surrounding the bed, facing him and keening softly.

His distressed mind inevitably turned to Hannibal, seeking comfort from the one Alpha he knew that could provide it. Every time this happened he would have to bite his pillow to prevent the cascade of needy whines that threatened to pour out at the image of the man’s face. The few confusing moments of wakefulness were the worst; he had to focus on breathing steadily, otherwise he would be overwhelmed by the stream of desperate sounds his body was intent on pushing out to call the Alpha to him. Like the uncontrollable gasps one takes while crying too hard, his body shook with the effort of it.

Several times he had grabbed his phone and was on the verge of calling Hannibal. He didn’t have his personal cell number but his office wasn’t difficult to look up. But what if he didn’t answer? What kind of message would he leave?

_‘Hi Hannibal, it’s Will. I just woke up from a really bad dream and, well, I guess I miss you and I’m almost freaking out at not seeing you, sooo call me.’_

He hated himself for feeling that way, for needing someone so profoundly. It was wholly disarming; a grown man should be able to handle his issues on his own, not pine for some stranger he didn’t even know. However as soon as he pictured the torn body of Garret Jacob Hobbs he started trembling and tunnel vision would set in. Those mad moonlight eyes would stare into his soul and whisper _‘See? See? See?’_ over and over.

When Alana’s call came suggesting that Will schedule his first real appointment with Dr. Lecter, he had to bite his tongue. Torn between needing to see the man just to stay sane and never wanting to see another Alpha again, Will reluctantly agreed and allowed Alana to schedule the meeting for him the following evening. The Omega in him could have purred and he spent the rest of the time leading up to the appointment in a state of twitchy apprehension.

Even if he was uncertain about seeing Hannibal again, he was sure he needed to talk to someone, _anyone,_ about what he had gone through. Ten bullets were embedded into a man’s chest and it had been because of him. Having someone to reflect with on that would be valuable even if he didn’t respond well to therapy in the past. At the very least it might help with the nightmares.

Presently, as he stared at the ticking of the ornate clock on the wall of the psychiatrist’s waiting room, he didn’t give a damn about the bad dreams.

Hannibal’s scent was all around him. Tantalizingly near, he could practically see the Alpha through the wooden door into the office beyond. It was sharp and provocative, an exotic glass of liquor from a faraway land of castles and dark mountains. He could almost taste it in the back of his throat. The familiar musky warmth was woven through it and Will’s eyes were glazed before he had even sat down. It was soothing, like a call from home when you haven’t heard from them in a very long time. A calming relaxation stole over him but he prevented himself from sinking into the comfortable armchair; he had to be ready.

The low murmur of Hannibal’s voice suddenly sounded, close to the door. It made him perk his ears and tilt his head like a mutt hearing something it didn’t understand and his heart jumped into his throat. The words were too muffled to decipher but it was obvious that he was conversing with another man. Curiosity flared to life. Who was it? Taking a deep breath brought no information; Hannibal’s scent dominated every other. The man must have been a Beta.

The curiosity swiftly turned to blind jealousy and Will was surprised at its speed and potency. He had no possible reason to be jealous of any other male in Hannibal Lecter’s room. In all probability it was just another client and he was overreacting like a hormone-crazed Omega. All the same he stood, lip rising in a half-snarl, and moved to the door.

_Mine…_

It opened unexpectedly just a few inches from his nose and for a moment his breath escaped him. Caught off-guard, he froze in place.

Hannibal wasn’t prepared for his next client to be so close to the door, and as it swung open it brought both a blast of Will’s scent and Will himself.

The Alpha’s gaze met the Omega’s bright blue one guarded with possessiveness and an instant responding growl built in his throat. Taking in Will’s body language, the stiffness of his spine and arms and the way his head was tilted down as if to lunge, he knew that he was responding to Franklyn, the previous client that had just vacated. It made Hannibal want to gloat with dark satisfaction; his little Omega was getting territorial. And he liked it.

Stepping forward slowly as not to startle him, the Alpha breathed in steadily through his nose. Sweet pine cooled his lungs, though much milder than before. It was mixed with the spicy aroma of jealousy however and sang in his bones like the first wavering note of a sonata. Testosterone spiked, forcing his pupils wide.

Will blinked, coming to his senses as Hannibal approached. The sight of him after three long days was like a breath of fresh, cold air after being trapped underground. It made his mouth water and a jolt of desire speared behind his navel when he saw the blackness of his eyes. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light; the man certainly had a knack for ambiance. If only he could curl his fists around the lapels of his neat jacket and pull him roughly to his waiting mouth.

The knowledge that he was a client didn’t particularly matter at this point, but it urged him to step back to maintain a professional distance. His body was having none of it though. His heels seemed anchored to the floor and Hannibal’s eyes flashed as he reached him as if pleased by his stubbornness.

“It’s good to see you, Will. How are you feeling?”

Will would have snorted had it not been for the preoccupation he was currently having with the Alpha’s lips. _‘Well doctor, I just killed a man and dream about drowning in his daughter’s blood. So the answer is right fucking peachy. Can I kiss you now please?’_

He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away.

“I’ve been better,” he replied.

“I daresay you’re in the perfect place to talk about that then,” Hannibal said politely, gesturing for the Omega to step inside.

Will took the cue and acquiesced, unable to prevent inhaling deeply as he passed by the doctor. God, the man smelled amazing. He wanted to nuzzle his nose under Hannibal’s jaw and scent him, press his mouth to the glands that were close to the surface and taste his skin. If it weren’t for the distracting view of the Alpha’s spectacular office, he just might have.

The room spanned a good fifty feet end to end, with soaring ceilings that dissolved into darkness. Refined didn’t do it justice – classy seemed more appropriate. It seemed half office, half stylish library, as an entire second floor was devoted to row upon row of books. A catwalk ran around the length of the room, offering a superb view of the area below.

Two leather armchairs sat facing each other before a handsome oak desk. They were flanked by small glass tables and looked comfortable. Long, elegant crimson curtains fell from the top of two twin windows set proudly into the opposite wall, closed to the world beyond. They matched the color of the walls, a red that somehow made the room sexy.

“Can I offer you some wine?”

Hannibal brushed by Will as he moved to a cabinet against the wall, not failing to notice the shudder it evoked.

“Do you usually drink with your clients during therapy, doctor?” Will replied mildly, moving to the desk in the middle of the room. He was acutely aware of the Alpha’s presence and wanted to stay in a position of control as long as he could; the farther away, the better. Anything closer than four feet had his head swimming.

Hannibal’s answering chuckle made the corners of Will’s mouth twitch.

“Alana Bloom may have scheduled our meeting as doctor and patient but I like to think we’re more along the lines of friends. Would you not agree?”

Will leaned against the desk, unconsciously smearing his palms on the surface. Honestly, he didn’t know how he felt about Hannibal Lecter. Obviously their relationship was nothing so formal as client and psychiatrist but he didn’t know its name. What would one call the connection when an acquaintance cooks you breakfast and then witnesses you murder another human? When your hands connect against the spurting artery of a young girl’s throat to try and safe her life, soaking you both in blood?

_Friends_ just didn’t seem right.

“I’ve never really connected to the idea of friends…apart from Alana,” he admitted. “I presented Omega in high school and she sort of saved me.”

Hannibal returned sporting two glasses of dark red wine. Will caught the way his eyes flicked up and down his body as he approached and he tilted his neck to the side slightly in response. For some reason being looked at by this Alpha wasn’t uncomfortable, like how he usually felt under the gaze of any other. This was exciting. He accepted the glass with a nod.

“That must have been very difficult,” Hannibal replied, facing the Omega but standing off to the side as to not appear threatening. He was pleased how Will was responding and he wanted to ease the collar of his shirt down to expose his neck more fully. The image of Will shivering as his fingertips brushed his skin made him want to close his eyes and savor it. “Adolescents are among the cruelest of us all; one wrong move and you’re branded. I imagine there were few Omegas there you could relate to.”

“I was the only one,” Will replied, taking a small sip. “Started on suppressants when I was sixteen.”

“Which you are back on currently,” Hannibal stated. “I noticed your scent was not as pronounced as it was the day I made you breakfast.”

Will looked up at him. He could have easily said ‘the day you murdered Garret Jacob Hobbs.’

“They make life…more bearable,” he replied, finding himself grateful.

“They also give you undesirable side effects such as nausea and vertigo,” the doctor said, knowing eyes glinting, “and the dosages you’ve been taking were heavy enough to cause moderate withdrawal symptoms in less than 48 hours. Will, from this point on I’d like you to consider me as your exclusive therapist and physician. I guarantee you will find no one more qualified and, as a friend, you will receive no better care.”

Will didn’t know what to say. It would be incredibly convenient, to be sure, but would it work? Having a male Alpha for a physician didn’t usually end well and he would hate to break off this new tentative relationship when it had just begun. Sighing, he placed his wine on the desktop and straightened from it, using the excuse of exploring the room to avoid Hannibal’s regard.

“That’s very nice of you, doctor, but I’m not the easiest patient to treat,” he muttered.

Luckily the acoustics in the room were good and the Alpha heard every word. Setting his glass on the desk beside Will’s he quietly moved up behind him like a lion stalking its prey. So trusting, turning his back on him like that.

The Omega’s eye had caught something against the far wall and he momentarily forgot where he was; an onyx sculpture of a proud stag was displayed on a table between the two windows. He walked over to it, captivated. It was just like the beast in his head, the same that waded through knee-deep blood in his dreams and warmed his skin with its hot breath. Fashioned to look in mid-stride, it had its head held high and gazed outward with a stoic expression.

Will reached out and touched the tips of the sharp antlers, another unconscious behavior to leave his scent everywhere he could in the Alpha’s office.

Hannibal approached silently and paused within a couple of feet. Will was beautiful from every angle and he relished the small moment of vulnerability with his back turned to him.

In a deliberate long inhale he leaned in slightly and pulled Will’s scent into his lungs.

The suppressants were doing their job well and he could have grumbled in frustration. His scent, though still fragrant, was nullified. He could have passed for a Beta and the idea made him want to snarl – this unique Omega, so dissimilar from all the others he had ever treated, should be walking the streets clear of drugs so everyone would know just how extraordinary he was. With Hannibal’s own intertwined with it of course, so they would know not to touch.

“Did you just _smell_ me?” Will asked after a moment, looking over his shoulder at the Alpha behind him. He wasn’t sure if he had actually heard it or if he had momentarily gotten lost in his wishful imagination.

“My apologies. Call it a prescription to start easing off the suppressants. It would do wonders for the nausea, and it’ll be much easier to scent you at a distance without them.”

Ice flooded Will’s blood and he paused with his jaw hanging off his shoulder. Did the Alpha actually just say that?

Slowly he turned, surprised to see that Hannibal was closer than he thought. His expression was unreadable but his eyes hadn’t lost their blackness. A dropping sensation in his stomach made him made him bite his lip; he was trapped between the stag and the Alpha with nowhere to go.

“And why would you want to scent me, doctor?”

_Crap, that came out way flirtier than I wanted,_ he thought in a panic.

Hannibal tilted his head and smiled softly, enjoying Will’s expression and wide blue eyes.

“As a boy I was blessed with heightened senses, even beyond my own Alpha playmates. As a psychiatrist I once diagnosed liver cancer in one of my previous clients by smelling it on him. Without your suppressants, I’ll be able to tell if anything is amiss and be able to treat you immediately.”

Will could have wilted at the professional answer but swallowed drily in relief.

“I’ll try, but it’s difficult to go anywhere when all the Alphas around me won’t stop staring. I can’t count how many times I’ve - ”

“Then I will give you an item of mine to wear with you. When you go out, they will simply assume you are bonded and leave you alone.”

This, however, was the kind of smack-you-in-the-face forwardness that made an instant flush rise in Will’s cheeks. His stomach contracted with something like lust and anxiety and his palms grew sweaty. It was a bold suggestion but the Omega knew it would work; with the scent of such a powerful Alpha on him they wouldn’t dare come near. It was also a dangerous one. Was he proposing it just to mess with his head under the guise of medical advice? As actual _solutions_ went, it was hardly a long-term one.

Hesitation made him step backwards which drove the stag’s antlers into the small of his back. The sudden pain made him balk, wobbling the display. Great, now he was going to break the doctor’s possessions as well as embarrass himself.

Inconveniently for the Omega, Hannibal matched his movement and took a step forward, forcing Will to either keep the sharp points digging into him or turn away completely. He was thoroughly enjoying watching him squirm.

The Alpha’s scent cocooned him in a warm embrace and Will struggled to think clearly. The echo of wine was still in his mouth and seemed amplified as he parted his lips to taste the delicious aroma. He could feel the heat exuding from Hannibal’s body, he was so close.

“That doesn’t seem quite orthodox, doctor,” he muttered. Relaxation loosened his limbs and he let his head droop sideways, feeling relief at succumbing to the gentle pressure.

Hannibal leaned in and eased into the negative space the Omega created between his neck and shoulder. A hint of pine, barely a wisp, met him.

“Scarf or gloves?” he asked in a whisper.

Will’s eyes fluttered shut at the nearness of the Alpha’s voice.

“Mn, scarf,” he replied.


	7. Chapter 7

                                                               

 

Alana Bloom took one whiff of Will and her nostrils flared like a spooked horse.

The quiet fields around the Omega’s home were flecked with snow and a bitter wind was blowing in from the north. Autumn was dying, slowly being strangled by a determined winter that was steadily tightening its grasp on the countryside. Life was dwindling away. The woods that lined the perimeter had shed their lush summer skins and were now barren, reaching with dead fingers up to a sun that gave no warmth.

The Beta had parked her blue hybrid just a few feet beyond Will’s front porch and was standing behind the open driver door with an incredulous expression on her face. She had driven an hour to Wolftrap to comfort her friend but apparently he had taken good care of that on his own.

Will was standing on the bottom step with his hands deep in the pockets of a thick winter coat, smiling slightly at her. Hannibal’s scarf was wrapped securely around his neck.

The chill wind swept his piney scent to her and the startling aroma of the Alpha, fresh and strong, came with it. Amazement and disbelief filled her and the Omega released a bark of laughter.

“You really should see your face, Alana.”

“Will, y-you and, you and _him?_ You and _Hannibal?”_ she stuttered as she managed to close her car door. Pale blue eyes were bright and imploring as she walked up to him and she barely acknowledged the many dogs that swarmed happily at her feet. A bright red pea coat hugged her tightly against the crisp breeze and she held down her own scarf that was snapping about her long dark hair.

Will shook his head, still smiling, and led her into the house.

“Do you want coffee?”

“Wha – yes, among other things at the moment. Information would be nice.” She gave him an enthusiastic sniff as she followed. “Are you off of your suppressants too?”

The Omega’s home was cozy, warm, and served just as much as a sanctuary as it did functioning household. This was the place he could go to feel safe. Isolated from the nearest town and the rest of the world, it was the one space where nothing could hurt him and he was content living alone with his pack of strays.

Will had put a lot of effort into fixing it up and adding his own touch. A comfortable living area was just off to the right of the entrance with soft plaid throws covering the furniture; a handful of hounds already occupied most of the comfy sectional. The area opposite served as a small workshop for tackle. Fishing line, bait feathers, and a variety of hooks were among the plethora of things organized on a wooden crafting table.

Alana’s faint wildflower scent hung delicately around their heads as they moved into an inviting kitchen.

A few mutts still wagged away at their sides. They seemed particularly interested in Alana’s legs and boots and were engaged in a sniffing assault. Sitting on an iron stool at the detached island, she smoothed her hands over her knees amid their prodding snouts.

“I was playing with Applesauce before coming over,” she said more to them than to Will, and gave them a scratch behind the ears.

“He must smell interesting,” Will replied with a knowing look and assembled the necessities for coffee while being purposefully over-casual. Alana’s attention snapped back and her eyes widened at the tease.

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore!” she exclaimed, jumping from her seat as it were hot and putting her hands on her hips. The dogs started at the abrupt movement but recovered quickly and resumed their snuffling. “Why on _earth_ do you smell like Hannibal Lecter? Your scent is also way stronger than normal and I don’t want to leap to conclusions but if you two slept together -”

Will jerked and almost spilled ground coffee all over the floor.

“Alana! No, we absolutely did not sl – it’s for _therapy!”_ he hissed, looking at her as though she had just insulted his mother. For a Beta, she had the intuition and sensitivity of an Omega and throughout their many years of friendship Will struggled to keep anything from her. When he had finally lost his virginity the first thing out of her mouth the next morning at work was ‘tell me how big it was.’

She held her hands up in defense but lost none of her fortitude.

“Then why are you off the suppressants? You’ve been on them practically as long as we’ve known each other and _please_ tell me why you smell like him.”

Will took a moment to carefully pour the coffee and serve it before answering.

“The suppressants are making me sick. Dr. Lecter suggested the best thing would be to ease off them, and wearing an item of his,” he gestured to the scarf, “will keep any Alphas away.”

Alana raised an eyebrow while warming her hands around her mug.

“So why are you wearing it right now? Are there that many unbonded Alphas running around the woods of Wolftrap, Will?”

He shifted uneasily in his seat. The logic was there but he didn’t have an answer for it.

“I just feel safer when I have it on,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

She paused to sip her steaming coffee, as if rolling the idea around in her mind.

“Well, I can’t blame you for liking cashmere. Are you planning on getting a fresh one every week, or…?”

The Omega blushed, picturing himself showing up at Hannibal’s house every Sunday morning to switch scarves and share a brief kiss in the sunrise.

_Shit, wait, what was that last part - ?!_

“Ah, I didn’t really get that far,” he confessed, taking a long swig of hot coffee to think. He barely got farther than Hannibal’s lips again before Alana shrugged, saying,

“Well if you’re comfortable with it, I see why Dr. Lecter would suggest the idea. Any Alpha would be crazy to try anything with you wearing that thing. I have to say, it suits you too. But you’re really not…?”

“ _No,_ Alana,” Will said sternly, raising his mug to finish it off. “This is purely out of necessity. Believe me, I don’t make it a habit of fooling around with my healthcare professionals.”

XXX

Will really wanted to fuck his therapist.

As he sat across from the man in his second session, a week after the first, he was barely able to restrain himself.

He knew they were talking about _something._ They had been there for over half an hour and gone through two glasses of wine apiece so that had to mean progress was being made. Didn’t it?

Hannibal was speaking, looking like an Alpha any Omega would swoon over. Those hooded eyes were focused on his face, appearing inhuman in the dim light of the office and somehow predatory. As if he was waiting for something. The expensive suit he wore fit him like a glove, complimenting in all the right places and Will had to frequently resist the urge to settle his gaze onto the magnetic space between his legs. If he allowed his imagination free reign for too long he would picture what was under those well-tailored pants and his own would get tight.

“Tell me how killing Garret Jacob Hobbs made you feel.”

The minute crests and valleys of his lips parted and came together around words that Will heard but didn’t register. Or maybe didn’t _want_ to register. Attempting to speak was difficult; each breath brought Hannibal’s scent with it and he struggled to breach the musky fog. It was like trying to think through molasses.

Maybe it had something to do with the scarf. Since Hannibal ‘prescribed’ it to him he had barely taken it off. Alana had been right, there was no need to wear it outside of work but he even slept with it on. He had gotten used to nuzzling into it before falling asleep, a habit he knew was dangerous but was powerless to stop. He found the nightmares had diminished dramatically since donning it though, and he was finally able to get some solid rest. The Alpha’s scent was becoming all he cared about.

His glassy eyes were drawn to Hannibal’s broad shoulders and long crossed legs. Sitting in front of the source of the delicious fragrance was akin to tying a starving man to a chair and placing a cake in front of him. Fidgeting in his seat, he tried to calm the slowly churning mess of lust and resistance in the pit of his belly. He could smell himself which he wasn’t entirely used to and it worried him that the Alpha might know what was going on. Fresh pine rose around him, spiked with the first embers of arousal.

The doctor had prescribed him down to one pill a day, miles away from where he was before. There had been a stretch where he was popping four or five every twelve hours. Now, barely restrained, his scent was returning with a vengeance.

It was strongest in the mornings where dawn would welcome him with drenched sheets and dripping skin. It seemed his sweat glands were affected as well; the drugs had been clogging up his pores and now he was sweating like a marathon steed. Loaded with pheromones and fragrance the scent of it was fresh and cold as if he had taken an icy dip in a stream laced with peppermint oil. It was so condensed that he had to open the bedroom windows to air it out.

Driving with the windows up was near impossible unless he wanted to suffocate himself. The journey to work, over an hour long, was spent in frequent bouts of rolling them down to expel the saturating odor and then rolling them back up so that he wouldn’t freeze. He knew he would have to get used to it at some point, but for now he was fine with shivering mildly while commuting.

Despite this the nausea had disappeared almost entirely and he was down to one wince-worthy cramp a week. It was day and night from where he had been before, doubled over in a bathroom stall once or twice a day, groaning with the pain.

“Mm sorry, what was that?” he murmured, not even attempting to remember what the doctor’s query had been.

Hannibal angled his head to the side, shadowing his small smile. His plan with the scarf was working beautifully. Will was obviously wearing it as he had instructed and then some. He understood enough about the Omega to know he was antisocial and preferred not to leave his house unless for work or other necessity, therefore his reaction at the moment had to be due to wearing it for extended periods of time.

That, and perhaps the wine.

Those bright blue eyes were distant, focusing only when Hannibal adjusted or said something, and then only on his lips or the apex of where his legs met. Yes, the Omega was falling, and falling hard. Things were sliding smoothly into place.

“How did you feel when you murdered Garret Jacob Hobbs, Will?” he repeated quietly.

Will twitched as mad laughter whispered in his ear, only to be drowned out by the explosions of gunfire. The weapon had been warm in his hands as if shooting him had just been a practice run and it wanted more. Before falling to Abigail’s side his chest had expanded in a primitive breath of victory. Killing had felt good.

“You make it sound like he was the victim,” he said, eyes narrowing.

Hannibal leaned forward, steepling his fingers in the negative space between his knees.

“Murder is defined as one human intentionally killing another,” he replied softly, his accent flowing around the words. “You ended Hobbs’ life purposefully, therefore you murdered him.”

The chair Will was sitting in felt suddenly constricting. Pushing himself out of it, he savored the empty space and walked around to the back wall that served as one long bookshelf. Leaving Hannibal’s scent was uncomfortable but the memory of the sensation he felt while pulling the trigger drove him to action. His blood surged as if perceiving another confrontation and his muscles tensed.

He had killed Hobbs, yes, but murder sounded far more malicious. From the moment he walked into the kitchen and saw the Alpha with a knife to his daughter’s throat he knew someone was going to die. It was up to him to choose who it was going to be and his quick reflexes with the gun ensured it wasn’t going to be Abigail. Although it very nearly was. It wasn’t hatred or rage that made him shoot; it had been necessity.

He wasn’t a murderer…was he?

Hannibal’s scent crept up on him again and the Omega paused in front of the many tomes. A shivery anticipation stole over him as he breathed in the smell of sharp whiskey and musk.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Will.”

It was spoken politely but he could feel the Alpha’s breath on the back of his neck and the spicy concoction swirled around him. Apparently he liked sneaking up on people.

Will turned and pressed his back to the shelves behind him. Hannibal was far too near to be considered professional and it was making his stomach perform some impressive acrobatics. Instinctively his head fell to the side in proximity of the man. Those dark eyes burned into his face, he could feel it; the Alpha was content with the show of submission but demanded an answer. He stood a couple of inches taller than the Omega and underneath the canopy of the second story railing he positively loomed, a devil in a fine suit.

Will felt like a rabbit caught in a snare while the wolf circled.

His thoughts flashed back to Garret Jacob Hobbs.

“As I shot him, I felt a quiet sense of…” he whispered, flicking his gaze up into the Alpha’s handsome face. He barely realized that he was gripping the lower shelf behind him with white knuckles as if he would start falling otherwise.

“Yes?”

“…power.”

The word was spoken quietly but with reverence.

Pleasure and satisfaction bloomed in Hannibal’s chest and his eyes filled with inky blackness and lust.

“Good.”

Will trembled at the deeply-spoken syllable. It vibrated into his core and nested there, a pulsing ball of approval that made the Omega’s thoughts become a jumble. Wait, the doctor had _liked_ that response? He _wanted_ him to feel that way about killing someone? Something was wrong about that. The shadowy silhouette of a huge stag reared its head in a silent cry behind them.

The thought was the only string of rationality in his head at the moment. The Alpha’s warmth was causing his body to break out into frequent, pleasurable shudders that ran from the top of his scalp all the way down to the ends of his toes, preoccupying the rest of his attention. A yearning whimper built in his throat; he was responding hopelessly to the man’s proximity and was in danger of losing himself.

This _wasn’t_ good.

Hannibal ate up each delicious tremor and fixed him with a look so intense he wasn’t able to look away. The Omega was helpless, trembling even, and the Alpha found himself feeling the first flickers of possessiveness as he delved into those deep blue pools. The idea of anyone else being with Will Graham was becoming distinctly distasteful. In fact, he was going to ensure that he was the only one.

“Would you like me to touch you, Will?”

It was a bold request but Hannibal couldn’t help himself. He stepped forward, invading Will’s personal space until there was no denying what he was doing. Cold pine washed over him, sugary sweet with arousal and he pulled it into the back of his throat in a luxurious inhale. It alighted in his blood like wildfire. Will was attracted to him, it was obvious, and Hannibal was more than willing to give him what he wanted but he also needed the Omega to feel in control. This was crucial and he paused to let him answer.

Heat bloomed under Will’s skin at the words and his pulse quickened to a frenzied throb.

 _Yes, yes, yes!_ His Omega side was screaming, tearing at the walls of its carefully constructed cage. He was desperate for attention, blind with need, but the scars from old wounds still ached. Letting someone close was dangerous. Stupid even, but the Alpha was waiting for a response and he didn’t have time to feel his usual sting of self-loathing. Desire clouded his eyes and his breathless answer had dropped from his lips before he could catch it.

“Yes.”

Hannibal tilted his head and stepped up slowly so that their chests were almost touching.

Will let out a sharp huff of desire and another shuddering wave rippled through him at the Alpha’s proximity. That was a tease and _not_ fair. He arched his back away from the wall with a low whine, trying to create contact. At this point he didn’t care if he sounded like a needy, pleading Omega, he just needed _friction._ There was a throbbing emptiness in him that demanded attention.

Hannibal wasn’t even touching him yet and those dark eyes were sending pulses of pleasure straight through to his cock where they trailed off into electric tingles down his thighs. No one had ever affected him like this before. It was addicting.

_Oh, shit._

Will looked up at Hannibal in anxious expectation and parted his lips. He needed more, needed more of this man all over him, _in_ him, _everywhere._ And now wasn’t soon enough.

“Please…”

The urgently spoken word was almost enough to make Hannibal snap. Growling, the Alpha surged forward and in one fluid motion grabbed Will’s hips and pressed himself flush against his body. He buried his face in the sweet space under his jaw.

“Hannibal -!” Will gasped, pinned fast to the bookshelf by the larger man. The combination of the pressure and the Alpha’s nose and lips ghosting along his skin made each muscle seize. He grasped Hannibal’s sides like a man overboard at sea, reveling in the hard muscle beneath his suit. The warmth was amazing. It poured out and seeped into him like blood being absorbed by thirsty earth. There was something so comforting, so right, about having his heavy weight pressing on him like that. Like nothing else could touch him. His senses were filled with the Alpha’s intoxicating scent and a pleading whimper escaped him. He still needed more.

Hannibal physically felt his restraint break upon hearing the desperate Omegan noise. The force of it was incredible; it shook him to his core, stripping him of all civility and reason. Groaning against Will’s soft skin, he gripped the man’s hips tightly and rolled into them.

Pleasure crashed through Will at the contact and he lost his breath in a fevered rush.

_“Oh, god.”_

Suddenly the warmth at his neck was gone and Hannibal’s face was an inch from his own. The Alpha was panting and his hooded eyes were blown so wide that almost no white was left. Two black holes, blank with a nameless, violent emotion, burned into him. His top lip raised in a possessive snarl.

“Tell me what you want Will, and I will give it to you.”

His voice was a growl, deeper, huskier. It had lost its refined tone and the accent was sharper, making Will believe he was struggling to control himself. The idea was both alarming and satisfying, that somehow he had power over an Alpha. He was also a little terrified at what he could do but that didn’t stop him from answering immediately – the friction on his crotch was mind-blowing and prevented him from thinking clearly.

“I want you to kiss me, Dr. Lecter,” he breathed.

Hannibal gave him what he wanted with urgency. With lips that were warm and soft and insistent he sealed his mouth against the Omega’s, groaning in satisfaction at how readily he was accepted. Using his tongue he encouraged Will’s mouth farther open and delighted in the ensuing moan he received.

Delicious wetness and heat made Will shudder against the Alpha’s broad chest and he grasped fistfuls of his expensive jacket, pulling him in for more. He didn’t know what he was doing, all he knew was that Hannibal was grinding into his raging erection while he tongue-fucked him and he was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen in his brain.

It wasn’t until Hannibal slipped a hand underneath Will’s sweater and splayed his hand across the small of his back that it all went to shit.

Will froze at the sensation and hissed softly against Hannibal’s lips. One of his scars was right there, underneath the Alpha’s palm. It wasn’t raised, therefore invisible to any wandering hands but to the eye it was a long blemish that started at his hip and worked its way across his back to the other side. Just a little reminder of how vulnerable he was around Alphas. A flash of pain, years old but still horribly, horribly fresh, made him choke.

Hannibal sensed his hesitation immediately and withdrew.

“Forgive me,” he said a little breathlessly, still gently holding the Omega’s hips and trying to catch his eye. “I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds.”

Will couldn’t meet his eyes. Tears were gathering in them as though someone had turned on the taps behind his skull. It wasn’t Hannibal’s fault; he was being amazing as usual. The perfect Alpha, ruined by an Omega that couldn’t keep it together. His kiss still lingered on his lips as he cleared his throat, addressing the hardwood floor. Embarrassment flooded him.

“I shouldn’t have done this,” he whispered miserably.

He felt Hannibal’s hand on his face, warm and soothing, but he growled and twisted away from the touch. Without another word he grabbed his coat and rushed out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

                                               

A slow, guilty burn was smoldering through Hannibal as he poured himself another glass of wine. Will’s breath still tingled over his lips and those pained blue eyes were still drilling a hole through his conscience.

He cursed inwardly at himself for the hundredth time since the Omega had fled his office. Yes, _fled,_ for that was exactly what he had done.

The Alpha knew that in his miasma of lust he had gone too far, pushed just a little too hard, and now they were both paying for it. What did Will think of him now? He should have been content to just kiss the man which in itself was incredible but no, he just had to reach up under his shirt and hold him close like a bloody bonded Alpha. The lower back was one of the main erogenous zones of the body, especially for Omegas. Obviously this one wasn’t ready for such intimate interaction and had reacted accordingly.

Remorse, unfamiliar and foreign, flushed through the usually impervious doctor. His control had broken, crumbled like a castle made out of sand and oh, how _easily_ it had been undone. Like an intricately woven web that takes an hour of careful construction to create, it is destroyed in an instant by one ambitious marauder with a stick. In this case, an Omega with eyes like an angry ocean.

The thought was haunting. However the idea that he had injured Will beyond redemption was far more troubling and he clenched his wine glass with a shaking hand. The long draught of Grenache did nothing to quell his self-resentment. He scanned his office under a haunted brow.

Will’s scent still lingered in the room and was affecting him even though its host had departed nearly an hour ago. Hannibal’s skin burned and the heat in his belly hadn’t subsided. It flared every time his memory flashed back to the incredible softness of Will’s lips and the feel of his lithe body pressed against him. They fit together perfectly. When he thought back to the sound the Omega had made when he had introduced their hips together, a covetous snarl twisted his face and a shiver of need rippled through him.

Abandoning his glass on the desk, he walked around to where Will had sat during the session. His scent was still so fresh. The Omega wasn’t even in heat but had nearly sent the Alpha into rut, and when their lips had made contact Hannibal was almost certain his restraint would shatter completely.

Every sense was heightened and he found himself growling at the smallest sound like an agitated animal. The rustling of his jacket as he moved was particularly disturbing and he shrugged out of it. Tossing it carelessly across the back of the chair, he rolled his shoulders at the freedom and began pacing his office. Will must be apologized to, amendments must be made. He was beginning to understand that his very sanity was depending on it. A bonding Alpha was a dangerous thing.

But first he needed to kill someone. And eat them.

XXX

Will groaned as he found himself shaking over his bathroom sink and facing his own pallid reflection. Somehow he had lost his shirt and was gripping the edges of the porcelain as though they were a lifeline. He felt sick; cold sweat beaded on the exposed skin even though the house was a toasty 24 degrees. Chills wracked his body and his vision was slightly blurred.

He didn’t remember getting home. The time it took extracting himself from Hannibal’s office up until this point was a blank – he must have driven for an hour in some kind of shocked trance. The idea was frightening. He had never lost time before.

As he stared at the face before him, he barely believed it was his own. A gaunt mask, pale with faded lips and hollow eyes stood in his place. Like some kind of twisted, sunken version of himself it hid behind the boundaries of the mirror’s surface just beyond reach; a fiendish doppelganger. If he looked hard enough the tips of antlers, black as the night, could be seen growing through the dark curls. Hardly distinguishable at first but then impossible to _unsee_ , they forced their way through his scalp to stretch up to the ceiling above.

Shaking his head, he splashed a handful of icy water over his face. He needed to talk to Hannibal again, and not just to discuss the loss of time. He owed him an explanation. The past couldn’t hold him in its punishing grasp forever and running off like that wasn’t fair. He had been treated with nothing but respect…and passion that startled him in its intensity. No one had ever made him feel like that before.

The idea of facing the Alpha again was cringe-worthy, however. Like rubbing salt into a fresh wound, it was a bitter sting.  The man had dredged up feelings in him that he thought were long dead; mad, depraved lust for example, but usually fleeing the person you’re swapping saliva with is seen as sending mixed signals.

Communication had never been Will’s strong suit. That made discussing anything private with another human difficult, especially when it meant opening up about what had happened to him.  

The eyes in the mirror suddenly shifted. Will’s stomach dropped as he saw the sadistic smile spreading across his own face. The bright bathroom around him quickly melted into nothing until only blackness remained and coldness settled into his bones. A tickling at his feet made him glance down. Tepid blood was pooling around him and rising. Soon it was at his ankles with no indication of stopping.

_See?_

He snapped his eyes back up.

The other Omega grinned darkly and in a flash of sharp teeth, lunged forward through the silver barrier with outstretched arms. A cold hand closed around Will’s throat and he lurched, crying out. Flashes of what happened on that dreaded day burst in his mind, unbidden and unwanted, and his own screaming filled his head.

_Rough twine cut into his wrists as he struggled, gagged and face-down on his bed. His arms were out in front of him with his wrists tied to one of the posts of the headboard. His feet were secured in a similar fashion. Struggling did little except tighten the bonds and fear made rational thought impossible._

_Candlelight flickered around the room, casting shifting shadows on the walls. They smelled pleasant, like vanilla. Will had put extra effort into making his bedroom inviting; he wanted to impress the Alpha and what was more romantic than scented candles? Unfortunately the present circumstances prevented him from enjoying them, or anything that was currently happening._

_A cloth had been tied around his eyes and the darkness was suffocating. His scent, soured with fear, clung close to him like a straitjacket and its pungency made him want to vomit. Cold sweat formed on his skin. It was dominated by the Alpha’s odor though, a heavy musk that stung his skin and crushed his own weaker pheromones._

_Francis Dolarhyde was poised over Will’s naked body, pressing a hand into his lower back to pin him down. He was a large male and easily fifty pounds heavier. His own bare form rippled with muscle as he crouched over him like a lion about to enjoy its kill. Blank, black eyes glistened at his luck. An Omega like this was rare…he was glad he had acted quickly slipping him the drugged drink. It had been all too easy._

_Bulging shoulders held up a strong frame as he bent his head down to ghost his nose along Will’s spine, enjoying the twitch he received. A low rumble from his throat made Will’s skin crawl._

_“You’re so lovely,” Dolarhdye crooned in a psychotic drawl. “I knew from the moment I met you that you were mine. My Omega. It was fate.” He had a slight speech impediment; not a lisp exactly, but he took his time pronouncing each syllable as if cautious not to stumble over them._

_Will wanted to writhe away from the touch but it was useless; the twine had been knotted tightly. Bile rose in his throat at the words and tears prickled in his eyes. No, he was_ not _his. Not ever. He thought this Alpha was different; he had been so nice, so charming…too bad he turned out to be fucking insane. He shouldn’t have let him into his apartment so willingly. His own foolishness rang in his head and angry tears replaced the fearful ones for a moment. How could he have been so stupid?_

_The sharp point of a knife touched him on the left side of his shoulder and Will froze with fear._

_“I have to mark you now, so everyone else knows it,” the voice sounded right beside his ear this time, close enough that he could feel the male’s warm breath on his face. “This’ll only hurt a little bit, my darling.” It was breathy with twisted anticipation and the Omega couldn’t help but whimper in panic as he strained against the ropes that bound him._

_This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening -_

_Cold steel dug into his flesh and pain came to life under its tip. Will let out a terrified groan as the Alpha dragged the blade slowly down the dips and arches of his back. As the Alpha sliced, blood welled up and flowed down his skin as if eager to be free of it. Adrenaline pumped through his system, flooding him with fight-or-flight hormones that were vehemently screaming at him to FLEE. His heart had been replaced with a hammer on steroids. The sickening, rapid thumps seemed to be echoing in the room along with his ragged breathing through the gag._

_He had no idea how far the Alpha was going to go - the unknown was more horrific than what was actually happening. As the male continued to cut along the Omega’s back in long, agonizing strokes, Will could only imagine what was next._

_“Almost done,” Francis whispered after what seemed like hours of carving. “It’s beautiful.”_

_Will was losing consciousness along with the blood that coursed down both sides of his body. As the Alpha sliced across the lower part of his back, the deepest cut yet, his body shook with the pain and his eyes rolled in his head._

_Like a morbid mantra, his distressed mind repeatedly told him that he was going to die. Like a busted neon sign, the words pulsed in his head as if the knowledge could make what was happening easier to bear._

_You’re going to die._

_You’re going to die._

_You’re going to die._

_He desperately wished it were true. Anything else was torture._

_Slick warmth on his back told him the Alpha was licking the wounds he had created. Will’s stomach turned but he could do nothing about it; at least he had stopped with the knife for now. The thoughts were sluggish in his head and the world around him started to dissolve into sweet numbness. His eyes slid shut as if to hasten unconsciousness and he followed along more than willingly._

_Francis crawled up the Omega’s body and pressed the sharp edge of the blade to his throat._

_“Oh no, no, no, my love,” he uttered as if he had sensed that his victim was close to passing out, the words somewhere between adoration and menace. “I need you awake.”_

_Will’s eyes popped open at the sudden pain and a whimper escaped him. It looked like a blissful blackout was far from the plan._

_A sudden warm weight depressed on him and he was smothered in Alpha musk. His skin crawled; he felt him everywhere, an unwelcome meeting of flesh on flesh. The heat from the man’s body was unbearable but the Omega could do nothing about it. Oh god, what if he tried to…?_

_Dolarhyde nuzzled into Will’s neck from behind and inhaled deeply, the act ending with a nibble on his ear._

_“I promise you’ll like this,” he said huskily. The whispered words were a shout in his head, a declaration of terrible intent. As if to confirm, the Alpha rocked his bare hips against Will’s backside and exhaled roughly into his ear. “I_ know _you will.”_

 _Will’s worst suspicions were realized and as he felt the pressure a strangled noise rose from his throat, a whine of dread. Fear was a living thing in his body, a poisonous worm that pulsed through his veins and squirmed in his guts. It fed on the adrenaline also coursing through his system, creating a potent cocktail that made him light-headed. No way could he survive what was about to happen, there was no living after this, death was better, preferred,_ welcomed –

“Will? _Will!”_

Jack Crawford burst into Will Graham’s bathroom and immediately rushed to the thrashing Omega. The smaller man was having some kind of fit on the floor; his limbs were flailing uncontrollably and his face was clenched in an intense expression of pain, fear, or possibly both. He was naked except for a pair of boxers and his skin was slick with sweat.

The Alpha worked quickly. Having spent a couple of decades as a cop and logging in even more as a Special Agent, Jack Crawford knew how to get a situation under control, and fast.

He got a rolled-up towel under Will’s head in a flash and pinned down his arms so that he wouldn’t hurt himself. Luckily he had quite a few pounds on the guy and restraining him was easy.

When he was certain Will was secure, Jack took a breath and paused.

The room was packed with the scent of cold, fresh pine. It was like mint city in there. Cool air washed over his face and Jack found himself sucking it in, feeling it chill his sinuses and calm his heart rate. Despite the heavy jacket he was wearing, the coldness seeped through it until it reached his skin, a refreshing sensation that gave him goosebumps.

Surprised at his reaction, he shook his head. Will was obviously off of his suppressants and the sudden blast of pheromones had just caught him off-guard. What was more important now was ensuring that this Omega, that his friend, was okay.

Will seemed to have calmed down. The episode had diminished to fitful twitching and he was no longer in danger of hurting himself. Blue eyes flicked back and forth behind fragile lids, seeing something only he could see.

Jack, determining that he could be released safely, ran a hand over his face and assessed the man before him. Damn, this was just not good. He had always known that Will Graham was a little, well, odd, but _unstable_ hadn’t been the word that came to mind. Until now.

As his eyes traveled down the planes and curves of his body, he realized he had never seen Will without a shirt on. The idea hovered in his mind and heat prickled at his skin. The Omega was framed delicately but held a toned leanness to him that was appealing. Not a scrap of fat was to be seen under his alabaster skin and Jack suddenly had the urge to feed him, nourish his body and make him stronger.

He froze. Why was his thinking like this? He was a happily bonded, _straight_ Alpha and thoughts of this nature were highly foreign for him.

The truth set in like a gear clunking into place.

Will Graham was in heat.

Something red caught his eye on the man’s side. It was some kind of mark peeking around the back, just above the breath-catching dip of hipbone. Curious, Jack reached out and gently palmed the soft skin of the Omega’s waist, trying to ignore the shooting warmth that spread down his arm at the contact. He eased Will’s hip off of the tiles for a moment to better see what the mark was; he needed to know if he was injured.

What he saw made him stop and growl. From his limited perspective he could see long scars running across the man’s back, a lot of them. Jesus, it looked like he had been sliced up with a boning knife. Bile rose in his chest. Someone had done this to him. Those cuts were too straight and parallel to be from an accident.

Anger rushed through the Alpha at the sight of them. Omegas were supposed to be treated with respect, fuck, everyone was, but the caring, sweet, compassionate nature of that particular gender made it all the more disgusting to find one treated with such brutality. This was torture. He couldn’t imagine what Will had gone through and a thoroughly pissed expression found its way to Jack’s face. He was going to find the son of a bitch who did this.

Will awoke feeling hands on him.

In a great swell of building awareness, he rode the wave of consciousness until it came crashing down on him. His eyes flew open and with a cry, realized that an Alpha, a _big_ Alpha, was hunched over him and gripping his waist tightly. Heavy musk filled the air, choking his senses.

When Will beheld the man’s twisted expression of hate and fury he began to scream.


	9. Chapter 9

                                           

 

Darkness fell around the farmhouse. It brought with it the sounds of an uneasy night; bitter wind, the call of a lonely owl, the sharp yips of coyotes. The moon was taking her time ascending her black velvet throne as if knowing the journey was going to be a long one.

Dead trees clustered around the perimeter of the field where the house was nestled smack in the middle like a cottage out of a fairy tale. To add to the effect, warm yellow light was pouring from every window. The creatures that skittered around the edges of the wood didn’t breach it, as they sensed the unease within.

Pheromone-laced scent was filling the master bedroom and getting stronger by the minute. It was already starting to seep through the walls. Carrying a signature unique to its host, its purpose was almost insidious...seek and draw out. By dawn its reach would be a good three miles.

The source of it was a pale form curled under a thick duvet, trying very hard and failing very well at disassociating himself from his body.

Cold, sweet pine was fanning from Will Graham’s skin like birds taking flight and a constant trembling in his limbs made him feel as though Parkinson’s had set up shop early. Despite the warmth of the covers, his bones clacked together and it took jaw-clenching effort to not fall apart completely and flop like a fish out of water. A mere hour had passed following the ordeal in the bathroom and his muscles were already aching from the exertion.

Being in heat was _not_ fun.

In addition to the shakes, prickling warmth rolled through him in waves, with each crest more intense than the last. The ride up was a nauseating ascent as if he were strapped into a roller coaster that ticked its way along a steep track. _Click, click, click_ …bringing with it building, burning heat that felt like fire pooling under his skin. Reaching the summit brought a gut-wrenching spear of horrible anticipation before the cart tipped over the edge and plummeted down.

The drop brought no relief but instead a piercing blast of cold that no amount of blankets could touch, along with a surge of prickling pain that started in his core and worked its way out. Sweat bloomed on his temples, under his arms, behind his knees. Groaning at the rush between his legs to match, he realized he was half-hard and wrapped the covers tighter around himself. Jack Crawford was standing a few feet away and had already seen enough.

Will wasn’t sure if he had gotten an eyeful of his scars during the rescue, but as he was still shirtless he figured he probably had. If he wasn’t so busy dealing with his insides that were happily tying themselves into knots, he might have felt embarrassed. Or ashamed. Or something. Gotta count your blessings though, right?

The Alpha was standing beside Will’s bed with his arms crossed and his jaw set in a stern expression. He seemed unmoved by the pheromones dripping down the walls and looked as bullish as always. If it wasn’t for the slightly disheveled suit and bags under his eyes, his presence could have been interpreted as a friend merely visiting a sick colleague, not someone who had just liberated an Omega from the floor of their bathroom.

“I’ll ask you again, Will,” he said in a tired voice that was somehow still commanding, “do you want me to call Dr. Lecter?”

Will shook his head hard enough to make dark curls fall into his face. It made the room spin like the aftermath of a long night of drinking but he was adamant. No one else needed to know what was happening with the inner workings of his body, much less Hannibal Lecter.

Between the shaking, sweating, aching, and migraine the size of Baltimore he managed a weak smile for his boss’s benefit.

“Thanks for the offer Jack, but I don’t need a doctor and I certainly don’t need _him.”_

He hated how weak his voice sounded, as if he didn’t believe the words he was saying. His body seemed to disagree as well. At the mere thought of the Alpha another wave of warmth pulsed through him, lighting up his insides like a Christmas tree and giving his cock a vigorous twinge. Wincing, he pressed his head into the pillows and gritted his teeth. It passed quickly enough.

Okay, thinking of that particular man was not a good idea.

Luckily the first stages of the week-long cycle were mild and easily misconstrued as symptoms of the flu but it was going to get much worse, and fast. In just a few hours the cramping would start in earnest and until drugs or a _very_ close friend became available, the pain would be debilitating.

With a flare of panic he realized he didn’t know where his suppressants were. They were one of the only things coming between him and any Alpha that happened to get in the way and without them he might as well be a neon sign flashing EASY ACCESS. Suppressing his scent was a goddamn public service. Thank god for plan B.

A small bottle of morphine was kept in his bedside table on strict doctor’s orders that he would use it only for heats, and he found comfort in knowing it was there. It was much stronger than the pills at stopping pheromone production and had the added bonus of knocking him out in the process. Only two shots were prescribed at a time and taking both during the same heat not recommended unless under the supervision of a trained practitioner. It had been a lifesaver in the past, though. When the worst of it came he was planning on simply shooting up and sleeping through it.

 _I could make the pain stop, Will. Be reasonable_ …a deep, accented voice whispered in his head. Another current of heat blasted through him and he crumpled into a ball, grimacing as his guts sizzled.

“Something tells me you’re lying.”

Thank you, Jack. Brilliant deduction.

Calling the Alpha he was interested in was definitely _not_ a bright move. The man was probably pissed and Will couldn’t blame him; at the first hint of close contact he had bolted without so much as a ‘see ya later.’ Talk about mixed signals. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a good reason to react the way he did, after all the past was a bitch at the best of times, but reflecting back on it he knew he should have left with at least some kind of explanation. Fuck, even a quick ‘sorry!’ thrown over his shoulder would have been better than what he had dished up…which was a hastily slammed door.

“No, Jack, I’m fine,” he found himself replying through his haze of self-reproach. “I can handle this myself. N-nothing I haven’t gone through before. ”

Wasn’t that the truth, even if his wavering voice suggested otherwise. He had gone through dozens of heats on his own without so much as a hiccup. When you were prepared, the event was relatively easy to control and he prided himself on always being ready.

The punch line was a bad one - he wasn’t due for another three months.

Usually his body was like clockwork, cycling once every half annum with such regularity that he could time it down to the hour. Keeping the house stocked with the essentials was straightforward: plenty of easy-to-prepare food, drinks, a first aid kit under his bed, fresh towels (because hot showers were a godsend when you were actively trying to crawl out of your skin), and enough movies, music, and media to keep him distracted while his insides held a week-long WWE tournament.

Easy breezy.

Even after the incident, which to this day still had no name, his heat appeared as though nothing had happened like it wanted him to get on with his life and just, you know, forget about it. Like that could ever happen. So why was it appearing out of the blue now?

“When you didn’t pick up your phone, I got a bad feeling,” Jack ploughed on as though Will hadn’t said anything. His voice sounded muffled around the edges. “Over the years I’ve come to trust those and if I hadn’t followed up you would still be lying on your bathroom floor, probably with a concussion. I have no doubt you were able to get through your heats alone before, but I _know_ seizures aren’t part of the deal. I think he should come see you, even if it’s just for peace of mind. I need my beauty sleep, Will.”

The Alpha’s words registered but it was a certain smell that made the Omega tilt his head up towards him and breathe deeply.  
Jack’s scent was beginning to respond to the pheromones in the air, reaching out through his skin as if to find the one responsible. Probably why he kept stalling. Peppery musk was beginning to blend with the sweet pine, fusing with it. This wasn’t good - even the fully bonded male was being affected.

As if recognizing this, the Alpha took a few casual steps backwards and kept his arms crossed over his broad chest. Breaths came in short bursts through his nose as he faced Will squarely. The man was doing a great job of impersonating a blindfolded bull, one that was considering on whether to charge or just blow steam from its nostrils.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate what Jack had done for him, peeling his sorry ass off the bathroom floor and depositing him safely into his bed and all that, but right now he did not need an Alpha getting riled up in his bedroom. Loyal mates were turned into panting predators around Omegas deep into their heats and Will had enough experience to know what would happen if he and Jack were left alone for too long. Things could turn dangerous in a heartbeat. He couldn’t let that happen; soon not even a Special Agent of the FBI would be able to control himself.

Raising his head up off the pillows, he fixed Jack with a piercing blue gaze. “I know it probably looked bad back there,” he nodded in the direction of the bathroom, “but honestly I don’t remember much of it. I just want to be alone now, Jack. Please. I can call if anything happens.”

Crawford was having a difficult time focusing on what the Omega was saying. There seemed to be a haze preventing him from thinking too swiftly, but he understood enough and nodded at the reply. He had practically carried the male to his bed after witnessing his episode on the bathroom floor. That had been after a few long minutes of calming him down – Will had awoken distressed and screaming at the top of his lungs, acting as if Jack was on the verge of committing murder. It had taken almost twenty minutes to convince him that he wasn’t there to hurt him.

Those wild blue eyes still haunted his memory even though the fear had long departed from them. The man had looked positively terrified and for good reason. An Alpha had obviously given him those scars which explained his twitchy, introverted behavior. Living through it had certainly done a number on his mind, making it no surprise that he would reject any form of aid, especially from another Alpha. Trusting someone after that was probably near impossible.

His chest swelled with sorrow and pity for the man and the words _protect, nurture, care for_ started bleeding through his head.

Will narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t need your sympathy, Jack.”

The Special Agent was momentarily stunned. Had Will just read his damned mind? From the swiftness in which he had replied it certainly seemed so. He knew Omegas was predisposed to empathy but this was something else entirely. Incredible, really.

Looking into Will’s face, he allowed himself a moment to just stare. Wide and bright, those blue eyes held his gaze as if demanding a response. He truly was beautiful. A warm flush had risen in his cheeks and those pouty lips were tight with indignation. This was no helpless Omega pining for comfort from another; this was a man who had gone through some dark shit and wasn’t allowing himself to be viewed as the victim.

He was strong, and wasn’t that damned attractive.

Jack felt his own blood respond by pumping harder through his veins. The air he was breathing was cold and chilled the inside of his chest, making him numb to all else but the delicious smell. He was vaguely aware that he was moving towards the bed but all he focused on were those eyes that had adopted a wary edge. Rational thought left him as if it were never there, swept away by the sweet smell of pine and mint.

“Uh, J-Jack?”

XXX

The morning sun shone through the heavy crimson drapes of the doctor’s office windows, splitting the room into sections of crisp light. It framed the two occupants sitting across from each other in the middle of the open space, happening to cast one in light and one in shadow.

The smaller of the men was slightly overweight and bathed in soft yellow. He was hunched over and snuffling into a tissue, looking like a giant baby stuffed into a suit. If it wasn’t for his head of tight black curls and matching beard he would have pulled it off entirely. His breathy sobs were certainly helping.

The other figure was a tall, elegant male reclining gracefully in his seat. He was situated just beyond the block of sunlight as if lurking behind it but his size and presence commanded the scene.

Hannibal considered Franklyn Froideveaux with quiet distaste. He had never liked the Beta, which really wasn’t saying much as there were very few individuals whom the Alpha could classify as interesting enough to _‘like’,_ but at ten thirty in the morning the man’s usual eccentricities were proving to be particularly irritating.

He was dressed in a cheap three-piece that seemed a size too small and smelled of equally inexpensive cologne. It was obvious he was trying to enhance his scent, which as a Beta was naturally faint. The effect merely came off as desperate and made him seem very out of place in the lavish office, where the fountain pens that sat atop the oak desk were Ancoras and roughly two grand apiece.

With a twinge that felt very much like possessiveness, Hannibal realized Franklyn was sitting in Will’s seat, contaminating it. That certainly wouldn’t do.

Franklyn gave one last hearty honk into his tissue before his pudgy fingers crumpled, folded, and eventually shredded the thing. He deposited the sad remains onto the small table beside his chair, unaware of Hannibal’s sharp eyes that tracked his movements like a hawk.  
“I hate being this neurotic,” he said miserably, his voice thick. With his own gaze stuck to the floor, he clasped his hands between stout knees in an attempt to pull himself together. A dramatic exhale followed.

The Alpha carefully concealed his displeasure at the performance. Only the smallest gesture of his brows coming together showed any regard, along with a slight narrowing of his dark eyes. Foppish Froideveaux simply had no consideration for others or enough common sense to put his own waste in his pocket. Hannibal could have snarled; it was rudeness borne out of ignorance and he did not tolerate either. Others had been eaten for far less.

The idea made him pause.

His dining room table, splendidly set under dim candlelight, shimmered to life in his mind’s eye. Everything else was swathed in shadow and the smell of roasting meat and herbs filled the air. A beautiful aria complemented it. Will was sitting at the place of honor, cutting into Franklyn’s freshly braised kidneys with a knowing smile. In this fantasy the Omega was well aware of what he was eating and found it exciting, stimulating; just as Hannibal did. Those icy eyes would flick up to meet his host’s red ones…

A ripple of pleasure ran through the Alpha as if their gazes actually met.

The antlered shadow inside him reared its head at the whisper of blood and opened wide, white eyes. Feeding the Omega would be darkly, intensely satisfying.

Perhaps this patient’s usefulness had run its course…time to try a new recipe.

“Your neurosis wears at you like the foaming lather of constant waves on the shore,” he replied lightly with practiced indifference, which in this case wasn’t difficult. “That is why you always feel as though you’re being dragged under.”

As he listened to Franklyn’s self-pitying response he decided that he couldn’t have made a better choice on who to feed to his Will.

Even after six months of treatment the Beta was showing little progress. Controlling his anxious emotions was why Franklyn had sought help in the first place, but every psychiatrist he had met with had referred him to another. Unable to make the distinction between strangers and close, personal acquaintances, he had tried to befriend each of his doctors instead of working on his therapy. This inevitably led to the conclusion that these people weren’t really his pals, only professionals trying to help, which shot his nervous condition through the roof. Like a stubborn cold he had passed through a dozen therapists before falling into the hands of Hannibal Lecter.

This doctor was different. This one wasn’t trying to _help;_ quite the opposite. Months of therapy gave ample opportunity to exploit each sliver of weakness, every tiny little crack in Franklyn’s psyche until the man was reduced to a weeping, blithering mess. The reaction was then blamed on his inability to cope with his own feelings which drove the spike in deeper. It really was too easy. Turning the man’s insecurities on himself was effortless manipulation; hardly a challenge.

What better way to solve his boredom and apologize for his behavior than over an exquisitely prepared dinner? The rewarding process would be a salve for the bruises on his pride and hopefully his Omega would be more receptive after a day or so.

 _‘I killed it myself,’_ he would say with a twinkle in his eye.

Anticipatory pleasure rose in him like a snake ready to strike. It always did before the promise of a very satisfying meal. With a secret smile the doctor adjusted in his seat and tuned in to the tense ramblings of his clueless client, fully expecting another break down and ready to encourage one. Or two.

Just like a cat, Hannibal liked to play with his food.


	10. Chapter 10

He needed an alibi.

As Hannibal sat across from Franklyn Froideveaux who was still spouting useless information like a garden hose, he knew it was going to be difficult to murder him without one. The man was unfortunately very sociable. Often seen at parties and events around the city, his absence was going to be noticed quickly.

He had mentioned going to the opera that very night with his friend Tobias, which was when Hannibal was planning on spilling all that tasteless blood. A little twist on ‘dinner and a show,’ to be precise.

To cover his tracks he needed to be in the company of someone until dawn. The easiest would be to simply seduce them and use drugs to manipulate them as needed, which he was wholly prepared to do.

Another unfortunate technicality: that someone could not be Will Graham.

Hannibal Lecter was many things, murderer included, but he was not about to use the Omega for his own personal gain. He wanted to take things slow and from the little he knew about him he was sure that anything faster was going to result in tragedy. That much was blatantly apparent. The feelings that unfurled in his chest at the image of Will’s hurt expression the last time he was in this very office made him shift in his seat. Something dark and haunted lay behind those blue eyes and the darkness within his soul reached out to touch it, sensing a mutual connection. Some things just couldn’t be rushed.

A particular Beta at the Agency had shown interest in him once or twice, and she would serve well for the one thing that needed to be rushed tonight. Being young and naïve, winning over her affections was going to be a task both easy and unexciting but called for only a few ingredients. He would need champagne, for example, although namely for himself as he knew his little scapegoat preferred beer.

“Not to say I’m against it you understand, I mean, I’ve _tried_ things, experimented, of course-”

A resounding banging at the office door interrupted Franklyn’s blushing confessions and they both looked toward it.

“B-but our hour isn’t up for another fifteen minutes!” he sputtered as though his doctor had planned the intrusion.

“I assure you Franklyn, I had no intention of cutting our session short. Excuse me a moment,” Hannibal pacified as he stood and walked to the door. He could practically hear the tears welling in the Beta’s eyes. Even if he hadn’t planned on it, he was glad of the interruption; the man was going to be dead before sunrise but he couldn’t wait to kill him.

The Alpha took his time walking across the room, buttoning the soft panels of his jacket and adjusting his cufflinks. Even in the wake of an impatient caller he hurried for no one but himself and from the thick, anxious scent drifting through the wood he knew Jack Crawford was on the other side. This only made him delay even more. He so enjoyed letting that man suffer.

The door was finally opened but the good doctor barred the way of the entrance with one arm on the door frame, his body language easily stating that while the door was indeed open the intrusion was less than ideal. After all, professionalism must be kept up and he _was_ still in session with a client.

“Jack. I’m surprised to see you,” he stated coolly. “I thought I had informed you of my schedule for this week.”

He was met with a blast of sour unease. The other Alpha looked hastily put together; his tie was crooked and slightly undone, one straining button held his suit jacket together (in the wrong slot), and his usual holier-than-thou expression was replaced by something Hannibal couldn’t quite place. Strange. The strong scent of men’s soap and cologne hung about him as well, as if he had spent an hour in the shower and just as long afterwards alone with a bottle of Avon Musk.

What had happened?

“You’re with a client…? I thought you didn’t start your sessions until ten,” Crawford said confusedly.

“It’s almost eleven, Jack.”

Dark eyes widened for a moment before he reclaimed himself.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I just wanted to…well, I stopped by Will Graham’s house last night and…are you alright, doctor?”

Hannibal’s formality had dropped and shattered like a wine glass at the mention of the Omega. The result was a protesting crack from the door where he was subtly turning the knob as far as it would go and then some, paired with a suppressed snarl and lethal expression.

The very idea of someone else being with Will in his house, let alone another Alpha, and then _Jack Crawford,_ was enough to make him want to loosen the brass a little more. As in rip it off completely, along with the offending Alpha’s face. Reigning in his possessiveness was akin to trying to put out a bonfire with his bare hands but he managed some semblance of civility with his response.

“What were you doing at Will Graham’s house?”

The question was little more than a growl.

“I called him to a crime scene and he didn’t answer his phone,” Jack replied, and then added awkwardly, “He’s in heat-”

Hannibal focused his energy and stepped backwards into the room under the presumption of addressing his client. In actuality, if he hadn’t backed up to get Jack’s anxious scent away from him he was quite sure he would have become violent.

Keeping his eyes trained on the man, he projected, “Franklyn, forgive me but we shall have to continue our session as planned next week. If you could please exit the room, Special Agent Crawford and I would be much obliged.”

His lilting accent covered his hostility well.

The sounds of Froideveaux sliding his chair on the hardwood matched his scuffling footfalls as he moved to the client’s exit.

“I understand completely,” the Beta simpered as he left, looking around Hannibal’s rigid body at the visitor. It was a complete 360 from his previous statement but then again, fawning around those more powerful than him was second nature. “I’m more than happy to accommodate our fine defense force. There is no greater therapist than Dr. Lecter, Special Agent, I can attest!” he called, even giving a little wave.

He hadn’t the sense to notice that neither were giving him much attention; in Hannibal’s case, none at all.

Jack glanced his way and gave a tight-lipped nod, seeing his plump image for only a moment before it disappeared out of a separate door.

Hannibal backed up further, allowing for Crawford to enter the office. As the door closed them in all he could picture was the male sprawled on a bed he had never seen, in a house that he had never been inside, with _his_ Omega, who was in heat. Hot anger soaked through like an acidic balm.

“In heat?” he repeated, pinning Jack with his gaze. The other Alpha visibly flinched.

“Yes. I had called to ask him to come to a crime scene and he didn’t pick up. After a couple of hours of nothing I followed a hunch and drove to his house.”

Hannibal could feel his blood pressure rise with every word.

“I found him on the floor of his bathroom, having some kind of seizure. I thought as his therapist you should know, as I don’t think he would have told you himself.”

This caught his attention. Will was having seizures? There were only a handful of things that could possibly be, and none of them were good.

His next instinct was to slice Jack’s throat just to get him out of the picture but he resisted the impulse. Information was needed first, and it really would do nothing for the hardwood.

“What state is he in, Jack?”

It was a loaded question and the other Alpha knew it. He met the doctor’s gaze squarely.

“The fit ended and I carried him to his bed. _Nothing_ more than that happened, Hannibal. I swear it, even if...”

A whisper of a warning growl sounded from Hannibal’s throat.

“I-I swore to Bella too, when I came home. I could never do that to her,” Jack finished hurriedly, and then sighed deeply as if ridding himself of the idea. “The heat pains were taking him but he said he had what he needed to get through it. I…believed him.”

Through narrowed eyes, Hannibal saw a man telling the truth. If he had violated Will in any way, the guilt of it would be all over his face like a bad nosebleed. He could scrub the clinging scent of heat from his skin, but there were no loofas or pumice stones for emotions. Also from what he was saying, the Omega was in no immediate danger. Heats were uncomfortable, to be sure, but in no way life threatening.

The seizures could have been from anything and worth investigating, of course, and would be in time. However Hannibal doubted Will would appreciate another Alpha invading his space while he was in such a vulnerable condition, especially one that had tried to feel him up the last time they were together. His guts gave a guilty twinge.

Giving Jack a curt nod with the promise to call on Will, he dismissed the man from his office under shadowed eyes.

His preferred method of making him disappear was, of course, to fillet him like a trout and serve him for dinner, but he had to be content with merely a few spoken words. When the door snapped shut he pivoted and resisted the urge to pursue him like a predator. Rationality held him back.

Nothing good would come of murdering Jack Crawford, at least not yet.

Despite his Alpha side screaming at him to leave immediately and go to his Omega, he wanted to respect the man’s boundaries. He would call instead, claiming Jack was responsible for the contact. Perhaps his offering of a home-cooked meal would be more receptive over the safety of a phone line.

He would also get to hear Will’s voice…

A shudder ran through him at the thought of what he smelled like in heat. Ice and pine, cold but flushed. What would he feel like…?

Swallowing the covetous growl rising in his chest, Hannibal composed himself and moved to his office desk. For now, there was a particular Beta whose murder/dinner needed planning, and Alana Bloom’s business card was waiting in the top drawer.

XXX

Will felt himself get shoved against the familiar wall of bookcases again but didn’t feel the blunt edges of the shelves. His Alpha’s mouth was on his neck, biting and sucking the sensitive skin right below his ear while those olive-toned hands gripped his hips possessively. Those sensations were the ones he wanted to focus on, as well as the amazing scent that filled his nose and scrambled his brains like eggs but that was fine.

Hannibal was all that mattered.

Pulsing heat washed through the Omega’s body at the points where the male’s teeth and fingers sank into his flesh, making his already rock hard cock twitch for attention behind his belt. He wanted more, _needed_ more. This delicious connection was a mere precursor to what was inevitably going to happen, probably right over there in one of those office chairs. Or on the desk. Fuck, even the staircase was fair game.

But first he wanted Hannibal to bite him.

Not just the teasing love bites that he was currently receiving although those were amazing on their own, sending shoots of electric pleasure down to the very tips of his toes, but a _mark_. A fucking blinking neon sign for all to see that said I AM HIS. He wanted Hannibal’s teeth buried in the curve where his neck and shoulder met, wanted to feel the warm trails of blood as they coursed down his chest. The desire made him tilt his head to the side and utter a desperate keening whimper, anything to encourage it.

A husky laugh sounded close to his ear.

“Tell me what you want, Will.”

The accented voice alone almost made him come in his pants. He couldn’t focus on wrapping his mind around a rational reply even though the answer was straining to be let out.

A warm wetness told him that Hannibal had gotten his tongue involved and Will barked a curse in response. Realizing he had been bracing himself against the shelves, he relinquished his hold and buried one hand in the Alpha’s hair and clutched his waist with the other as if the man were a life raft. Closer, closer. He was going to break if they stayed apart any longer –

Hannibal rolled his hips into Will’s with a deliberate slowness that made both of them groan. Will shuddered and arched desperately into the friction, feeling slick coat the insides of his thighs in a warm rush. The exquisite pressure made his throbbing erection weep behind his pants and threaten to get the job done itself if he wasn’t careful.

His Alpha’s face appeared before him, looking downright bloodthirsty. Those knowing eyes were hooded with lust and he was panting.

“Tell me what you want, Will,” he repeated, the statement slipping into a growl, “and I will give it to you.”

Without waiting for a response or breaking eye contact he applied more pressure with his hips, leaning into the Omega’s shaking body and beginning a slow rhythm. Push, retreat, push, retreat. Like that was going to loosen his tongue; with every grind Will lost more of his ability to reason and Hannibal’s scent was not helping things. It swirled in his head, making him want to lose it entirely and start begging for the Alpha to bite. Didn’t he realize how agonizing this was?

“Please,” he managed through gritted teeth while suppressing the urge to roll his eyes and throw his head back. He had never been this hard in his life, or this fucking desperate. He stared back unblinkingly at his Alpha, hoping his gaze would tell him all he needed to know.

When a second passed without action, a frustrated whine escaped Will’s throat and that was all Hannibal needed. Without warning he bared fangs that hadn’t been there before and struck hard.

Will awoke on his stomach, grinding his erection into the mattress as he orgasmed into the sheets. Pulsing pleasure rolled in waves as images from the fever dream flashed in his brain like a strobe light. He could still feel Hannibal’s lips and tongue on his neck, hot and warm, and the phantom sensations just made him come harder.

Half delirious, he rode the waves of feverish release for what seemed like hours until his body finally collapsed.

The descent back to relative normalcy was painful. Both the physical and mental sort wracked him; muscles that had been seizing and flexing during the long hours of the night were stiff and his skin prickled as though he had fallen into a nettle pit. Not to mention his insides which were still squirming unpleasantly. He could deal with all that, though.

It was the aching hole in his chest that was opening in response to the fading dream. As if realizing his Alpha wasn’t actually present, pain started up a revolt behind his ribs. With each breath taken without Hannibal, it grew. The miles between them felt like fathomless oceans, digging a spike into his heart that felt like the real thing.

It felt like falling.

Thoroughly exhausted and willing to let sleep claim him again despite the sunlight that was cheerfully streaming in through the bedroom windows, he rethought that plan.

One whiff of himself suggested that the orgasm he was still coming down from hadn’t been the only one of the evening; his sheets were so saturated with sweat and slick and fluids that he could have wrung them out with impressive results. His cold sweet scent hung thick over everything, heavy and humid like the hours before a summer storm.

A shower was probably in order, that and laundry. Thank you extra strength Tide.

Twenty minutes later and he was standing in his tub under a freezing spray, relishing the feel of the icy water pummeling his hot skin. He would have gone sooner but the heat and fever had stolen much of his energy and merely walking across the bedroom floor had been draining.

Another twenty more were spent actually washing and drying as his achy muscles and joints protested every step of the way, but feeling clean was worth it. By the time he was finally done he was ready to surrender to his bed once again, and to the cold hole in his chest. This pleasant reprieve from the grips of the fever wasn’t going to last for much longer; already he could feel it creeping back into his bones, a warmth that no AC or cold showers could touch, and his emotional state could definitely use a coffee break.

His body had other plans for him, however. As soon as he stepped foot out of the washroom, a familiar smell registered in his head, like someone had clunked a quarter into his Pac-Man machine and was ready to start noshing some fucking cherries.

_HANNIBAL -!_

With a strangled cry he lurched in the direction of his Alpha, not caring who or what was in the way or that he was still completely naked. His head was still smothered with fever and his vision was blurred but he didn’t give a shit; Hannibal’s scent called to him, an irresistible beacon that had to be answered.

The smell of home and sex and comfort led him to the entrance way of his house. His dogs were piled in the den, curious but only partially interested in what he was doing. Their eyes followed him as he knelt by the door.

Hannibal’s scarf was bunched under a wooden chair, nearly hidden. The scent that drifted from it was loud in Will’s head and drew him as if it were beeping. Grasping it, he pressed the soft fabric to his face and groaned. The scent of his Alpha was faint but spurred him on like a goddamned sports stadium full of fans and he was instantly hard again. Ready for round…ten? Fifteen?

An impatient snarl ripped out of him. Hannibal wasn’t here. Probably didn’t even want him anymore after the last time they had parted company, and the idea was both tragic and numbing. It made the open wound in his chest sink deeper, choking his breath.

That didn’t mean he got to take the scarf back, though.

Gripping it in his fist, Will clenched his teeth as a fresh round of heat surged through him, ending in a painful crescendo that made him gasp. This just wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t _fucking_ – 

The sound of his cell phone ringing made him jerk his head around. It was coming from his jacket which was hung up on the rungs beside the door. The rational side of his brain told him that it was probably just Jack calling to check up on him, but the side ravaged by heat and torn to shreds by the idea that Hannibal didn’t want him screamed with pathetic certainty that it was the Alpha.

He reached for it only to prove to himself that it wasn’t Hannibal. He could take care of himself, he had done it before and he would do it again. Nothing had changed.

 _Except for the fact that you’ve bonded with an Alpha who won’t service you,_ he said to himself. Shoving the thought aside with a pang, he pulled up the blank screen and hit the home button. The call was coming from a number he didn’t recognize and hope rose so violently within him that he staggered against the wall. Jesus, just because it might be a spam caller was no reason to jump to conclusions.

He hurriedly accepted it and held it to his ear.

“H-hello?”

“Will.”

The single syllable made his breath leave him in a rush and his knees took an abrupt time out. It was Hannibal. He had called, something Will hadn’t really believed would happen and he had said his name with what sounded a lot like…relief? Tears sprang to his eyes and he choked on trying to get his reply out too quickly.

“Hannibal,” he uttered, unable to keep the desperation and need out of his voice. “I-I…”

“Are you alright? Will? Is something wrong ?”

The concern in Hannibal’s voice made Will lightheaded.

“No, I’m fine. I’m…fine,” he replied, and heard a sharp exhale on the other line as if the Alpha had been holding his breath. “I’m just glad you called.”


End file.
